Veins of Bourbon
by PenNamesAndEndGames
Summary: Elena Gilbert works three jobs to stay afloat in a fast-paced New York City lifestyle, and prefers her trusty TV set and Chinese takeout over a movie theater and popcorn. When best friend Caroline barges through the door with a very Hollywood surprise, what doors will open for Elena? And who will she meet when she walks through them? DE, rated M for later chapters. Title to change.
1. Chapter 1: Vanilla and Spice

Elena Gilbert had never quite been a fan of cinemas. Something about the stench of stale popcorn littered about the theater floor, glued by an adhesive-like film of five-year old spilled soda, had steered her clear of any film-showing venues. For years, she'd been content with her trusty television set from her bedroom back home, her childhood patchwork sheet, and a throw-away tin of chicken and broccoli from the Chinese joint around the corner. So when the tornado of blonde curls and giddy squeals that is Caroline Forbes tumbled into Elena's apartment at 9 A.M. on a Saturday muttering about movies, the most ill fitting adjective to describe Elena's response was pleased.

"You will _never_ believe what I managed to get us." Caroline's tinkling voice pierced the silence of the living room, which also doubled as a bedroom on nights where Elena was too worn out to make the five-foot trek to her actual bedroom. Elena's head shot up from the throw pillow nestled into the corner of the couch, her brown hair a tousled mess, wispy strands sticking out to the left.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Care, do you ever knock?" Elena rasped out, wiping a tired hand down her face.

"Not when I have a key!" Caroline quipped with a wolfish grin. She dangled the shiny silver object off of her index finger before dropping it into her purse. "Anyway, guess what we're doing next Friday?" Elena shook her head and shrugged her shoulders, unenthused. "Oh, come on! Let me have a little fun! Just guess."

"I don't know, Caroline. Exploring the Amazon rainforest? Meeting Einstein? Maybe letting me fucking _sleep_?"

Caroline, ever the bubbly, oblivious type ignored her friend's snarky remarks. "We're walking the red carpet at the premiere of _Midnight Mayhem_!" In the split second it took Elena to put together the words "red carpet," "premiere," and "_Midnight Mayhem_," she was on her feet and groaning. "And before you say no, I already have the tickets, and I've already designed a dress for you."

Fridays were Elena's chill days. After three five-hour shifts a day at Daisy's Diner, The Tool Box, and Closer to earn enough money to stay afloat in her tiny New York City apartment, and to send to her brother Jeremy back home in Mystic Falls, a good Friday night offered a reprieve from the week's work, and the necessary Chinese takeout. She most certainly didn't want to attend an event celebrating the very establishment that reminded her of the reason she felt obligated to send small checks to Jer every month. But the look on her best friend's face, the wide eyes pleading her to acquiesce, suddenly had Elena feeling a bit more charitable.

"Rules for Friday: the dress better not have sequins on it, you're driving, and there better be enough alcohol involved to quench the thirst of 30,000 soldiers. Got it?"

* * *

Five days, two dress fittings, and one and a half bottles of champagne later, Caroline stood behind Elena, putting the finishing touches on her masterpiece. Elena had to hand it to her; the girl was good. On an average day, Elena's mirror reflected a girl who, in her eyes, could be described as mousy. Today, though, chestnut tresses framed Elena's heart-shaped face elegantly, her chocolate doe eyes melted into pools of fudge by lavender eye shadow smudged into her skin. After a heated debate, Caroline had bowed to Elena's request that her makeup be understated and neutral, and had painted a nude pink shade across her lips.

Caroline tapped Elena's shoulders with both hands, signaling that she was done with her makeover. Elena rose from the vanity seat and glossed her hands over her dress. Caroline Forbes was known for her elaborate ball gowns, amongst other glamorous evening gowns, in Hollywood and in the fashion industry, and this particular design was no different. Delicate lace adorned her neck, and crept down her shoulders and across her décolletage. It met a cream satin sweetheart neckline just above the swell of her breasts. The satin cinched at the waist and flowed out easily from the hips with just enough sway to catch the eye. The lace sleeves cut off just below the crease of her elbow, creating the perfect eyeline for the diamond and sapphire bracelet clasped around her right wrist.

Caroline had chosen blue as Elena's accent color to flow with her own accent color, red. In accordance with this set-up, Elena's heels were a deep sapphire color to coordinate with her jewelry. Caroline's accent showed throughout the small rose detailing against a white chiffon backdrop, the look completed by red stilettos. Her jewels were a bit flashier, as Caroline Forbes _never_ did "understated:" a ruby and white gold ring garnished her middle finger, while a diamond-chained necklace draped her neck, an extravagant ruby pendant dripping into her cleavage.

The two women looked back at themselves in the mirror, one with a surprised expression, the other with a self-satisfied smirk. "Care…we look…" Elena trailed off, unable to procure a word that could explain her thoughts.

"God damn _hot_, is the word I think you're looking for," her blonde friend filled in. Elena giggled.

"I was leaning more toward perfect or sophisticated, but hot works, too," she said, elbowing her friend with a smile. "By the way, you never did tell me how you managed to get these tickets." Elena eyed her friend skeptically as her face morphed from proud to self-conscious.

"Well, I…you know…I'm well-known in the industry and…I mean…I kind of met someone…the other night who gave them to me…yeah."

Elena gaped at the girl in front of her. "Caroline Forbes," she began, feigning flabbergast "you met a guy? And you didn't tell me?" Her hand flew to her chest as she gasped in mock surprise.

"His name is Stefan Salvatore. He's the manager of the lead actor in the film tonight. I met him at a business meeting a few weeks back. You know that I've wanted to branch off into formal wear for men for a while now. I mean, I can't just cater to women forever. Anyway we'd been coordinating what his client would be wearing on the night of the premiere. His client seemed very eager to wear one of my tuxes and agreed to showcase the first in the line. We've been in contact since, and he asked me out for drinks a couple nights ago. He said the tickets were for me and a plus-one as a show of gratitude for all I've done for his client, but El, I totally saw something in his eyes," Caroline finished dreamily.

Elena rolled her eyes with a grin. "Well then, missy, we better leave now. I'd like to be introduced to my future brother-in-law sometime _before_ the wedding," she ushered with a wink.

* * *

Few things daunted a Gilbert. A spider paying Elena a visit in the shower wasn't scream-worthy. An unrated horror film wasn't anything to write home about. Heights? Bring on the bungee cords. But ask her to stand by idly while her best friend went into fashion designer mode and was completely immersed in an interview on the red carpet? She'd probably start crying. Third-wheeling it with a friend and her crush in middle school was fine, but third-wheeling it in front of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people, and television cameras? _Oh god_, Elena thought to herself. She shook her head, straightened her shoulders, and, in an attempt to look graceful, glanced around the venue.

Bulbs flashed around her in such a way that she felt like a performer on stage in a stadium packed with thousands of bodies waving their cell phones and cameras at her. As her eyes panned the scene in front of her, she wondered how her fellow carpet-walkers pulled off the blasé look so easily. With a twinge of jealousy, she observed that the women knew just how to pose for the cameras, their winning smiles twinkling in the light of the flash. The men, one hand casually pocketed, waved up at the crowd around them, exposing their perfect teeth. In each face, contrary to what the smile conveyed, Elena detected a sense of numbness, an "I'm used to this" expression. She briefly wondered how these men and women, depicted so grandly on-screen, could be so desensitized to the mobs of screaming fans and reporters surrounding them on all corners.

Caroline's laughter brought Elena out of her ponderings. With Caroline's exuberant thanks, the interview had come to a close, and the two were expected to continue walking the carpet. Each time they stopped to pose for the obligatory photographs, Caroline had to drag Elena to stand beside her rather than off to the side awkwardly. When they finally arrived at the double doors flanked by two large men in black tuxes, Elena breathed a sigh of relief. _I'm so not cut out for this_, she thought, before being ushered into a private screening room. The two women found their seats just as the lights dimmed. Surprisingly enough, Elena's shoes didn't stick to the floor once in their dash for their seats. _Oh look, they cleaned up the place for the rich people_. She snorted at her thought, and Caroline gave her a dirty look.

The previews had been omitted from this screening, allowing for the opening credits to roll right away. She recognized the last name Salvatore right away, but couldn't recall Caroline mentioning _this_ name. Name continued to roll onto the screen, and idea of another Salvatore was quickly forgotten. Somewhere to the right of her, Elena heard a muffled laugh, followed by the soft trampling of feet. She turned to Caroline, about to remind her why exactly she hated movie theaters, but found Caroline's attention directed toward the back of a head of spiked hair. Rolling her eyes, Elena turned back toward the screen, trying to absorb as much as the plot line as she could. Her attention was again interrupted by another muffled laugh, quickly silenced by the abrupt settling of someone in the seat beside her.

She couldn't make out any distinct physical features, but she was able to identify hints of some sort of aromatic vanilla mixed with an earthy spice, spiked by the poignant tang of bourbon. This was most certainly a man beside her, a man whose veins were most likely filled with alcohol rather than blood at this point. Another person plopped down next to the man with a girly titter. Elena heard material shifting against the chair next to her, and she assumed that the man leaned into the woman's ear. He must have whispered something positively scandalous in the woman's ear, for her response came by way of stifled laughter: "Oh, Damon, shut _up_."


	2. Chapter 2: Little One

**I don't own the characters, but I do own the dress designs c;**

* * *

By the time the lights went up at the close of the film, the couple next to her had already made their exit. Elena hadn't noticed, and she'd entertained the thought that perhaps they'd learned some manners somehow in watching the action-packed adventure that allowed them to take their leave without attracting attention. Her mind was quickly distracted by Caroline's excited babblings.

"Oh, my god, El, did you see him?!"

"What in the world are you talking about?" Elena was sure that she couldn't even see the tip of her nose in the darkness of the theater, much less Caroline's ambiguous "him."

"Stefan!" Elena wasn't sure if Caroline's exclamation was in response to her question, or in effort to gain the attention of a certain spike-haired man a few feet away. The man in question turned at the sound of his name, a small smile appearing on his face at the sight of the owner of the voice that had called him. He weaved his way through the crowd and stopped in front of the two women.

"Caroline, you look beautiful," he said with a kiss to her cheek "and who is this lovely lady?"

"Stefan, this is my best friend, Elena. Elena, Stefan." Caroline projected confidence, but Elena could see it in her face: she was nervous of what Elena thought about Stefan. She extended her hand and shook his curtly, making sure to add a little bit of warmth in the gesture to appease Caroline's worries.

"It's nice to meet you, Stefan. Caroline told me that you are to thank for our presence here tonight."

He nodded, saying, "It was the least I could do for the woman who dealt with Damon during tux fittings." _Ah, so Damon was the client to which Caroline had referred._

Caroline playfully smacked Stefan's chest and said, "Oh, hush. He wasn't that bad." Her giggle made Stefan smile in return, and Elena noticed that Caroline was right; he did have this _look_ on his face when he looked at her.

"My brother can be a tad insufferable at times. I, for one, think you should be nominated for Sainthood for putting up with him, but hey—who am I?" Stefan asked with a smirk. He leaned in to kiss Caroline's cheek, and then Elena's, and said, "If you two will excuse me, I've got to meet with the producers. But I hope you two will join us at the after-party? I've already got you on the list." Caroline nodded vigorously, and Stefan flashed one final grin before waving and walking swiftly away.

Caroline turned to Elena and made googly eyes, quirking her right eyebrow up devilishly. "Isn't he just the cutest?"

* * *

Elena was beginning to worry that the beat of the music pounding against her eardrums had replaced her pulse. She'd been mingling alongside Caroline at the after-party for about an hour now, and she hadn't even gotten the chance to get that alcohol that'd been promised to her by her beloved best friend.

"Care, I'm just gonna go and…" Elena trailed off, sure that her friend hadn't even heard her. She turned and wandered away timidly, unsure of herself amongst this crowd. Apart from Caroline and now Stefan, she didn't know a single soul at this party. The guests here had thoughts laced with script lines and paparazzi-question responses, while hers were riddled with rent checks and customer orders at the diner. She had nothing in common with any of these people.

As her musings continued to run rampant, Elena was jolted back by a tug on her dress. A small gasp escaped her lips before she whirled around and was greeted by a head of disheveled onyx hair. The same vanilla and spice scent wafted toward Elena as the breeze picked up, and she recognized the man in front of her instantly. Her eyes shot down to the small train of her gown, where a shiny black shoe reflected her astonished face back at her.

"Jesus, I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attent-" His words halted the moment his eyes rose to hers. Iced orbs lit with both excitement and apology met Elena's shocked eyes. Elena had to blink a few times to completely register the man in front of her. His gently sun-kissed skin seemed to have an ethereal glow to it, radiating a sense of wild abandonment and fire. Wisps of inky hair fell from the crown of his head onto his forehead, and Elena realized with irritation that her fingers twitched at her sides in a desire to brush them away. A seemingly permanent smirk graced his lips, conflicting with the concern in his eyes. The man towered over her at what must have been nearly six-foot-two, broad shoulders emanating masculinity.

The small red _C_ sewn into the bottom right corner of his well-fitted tuxedo, a signature that Caroline had developed in high school when she first began sewing pieces, was the final clue to Elena that the man that had so rudely made a scene in the theater, and the man that stood before her apologetically after stepping on her dress, were one in the same.

Elena's shoe took this opportunity to slip on the delicate silk fabric of her dress, and her balance slipped. The man's hand shot out to her elbow to steady her, and slid down to clasp her hand, lifting it to his lips. After assessing her expression and determining that she wasn't angry, Mr. Blue Eyes widened his smirk, the twinkle reemerging in his eyes, and introduced himself.

"Damon Salvatore; pleasure to meet you," he drawled, lowering his velvety lips to her skin.

"Elena Gilbert. It's a _pleasure_ to see your face after having heard your laughter throughout the screening of the film," Elena retorted with a saccharine smile. His cheeky grin only widened.

"Feisty. Interesting," Damon intoned, the words dripping from his lips. Now free from the question of who the hell this man was, Elena became aware of the presence of a third person. A leggy blonde decked in a black, floor-length gown adorned with a sweetheart neckline and a side-slit that ran the length of her right leg stood beside Damon, watching the scene with amusement. Her waist-length hair shifted with her shoulders as they rose and fell in quiet laughter. Elena's glared at her petulantly with squinted eyes.

"I'm Lexi," the girl said with a chuckle, placing her hand on Damon's forearm, applying the tiniest ounce of pressure to prompt him to release Elena's hand. Lexi's brilliant smile lit the atmosphere around the three of them, and made Elena feel as though she were a small child looking up to a supermodel.

"Yes, well, as much fun as this little debacle has been, I'm going to have to say my goodbyes. I believe that the bar," Elena said, pointing bluntly to the mood-lit vendor "is calling my name." She pivoted on her heel, fluffed the skirt of her dress, and waltzed away in the direction of raspberry Smirnoff.

* * *

"Caroline, can we go?" Elena asked as she approached her friend, who was conversing animatedly with someone shrouded from her view. "I think I just saw Robert Downey Jr. back there, and the bartender cut me off like three drinks ago. And my feet are killing m-" Elena rounded the corner and shut up immediately. Caroline was engaged in a conversation with Lexi and the Salvatore brothers. As Elena stood by, made uncomfortable by the apparent pairing-off of everyone but her, and cleared her throat to get her friend's attention.

Chatter abruptly cut off as four pairs of eyes shifted to her. Sheepishly, Elena smiled and ducked her head. "Care, it's getting late, and the party is winding down."

Caroline, unaware, as always, of her surroundings, took that moment to survey the dwindling crowd and pouted. "But El, we were just getting into the juicy bits!" she whined.

Stefan, whose hand had made a home out of Caroline's lower back, patted her soothingly. "Elena's right. It's close to two in the morning, so we should probably all get going."

During this brief exchange, Damon's eyes had never left Elena, despite the gentle taps on his shoulder by Lexi to encourage his departure. "Elena, you never told me you were here with Caroline. Of course, I suppose you didn't have time to, what with your haste to insult me and reach the bar," he challenged.

"And I had _so_ much time to enjoy the movie over your obnoxious tittering," Elena quipped, fire in her voice.

"But Elena, you don't even like-" Elena shot Caroline a look, daring her to continue that sentence.

Stefan cleared his throat to cut through the tension. "Yes, well, as I said earlier, I do think it's time to be going. Caroline, we'll be seeing each other Tuesday, right?" The hope in his eyes was evident, and it was obvious that the glow around Caroline sparked brighter by his earnest question. She nodded, blushing just the slightest. She nervously tugs on Stefan's black skinny tie, and he smiled down at her hand. The two were a picture-perfect couple, equipped with gooey sweetness and all, and it was sickening.

Elena and Caroline began to bow out, Caroline offering small smiles to Damon and Lexi, and a megawatt grin to Stefan. Elena smiled to Stefan and Damon's blonde friend, but offered no recognition of Damon. Smoothing her dress for the second time that night, she turned to exit and began walking toward the doors.

The clearing of a throat behind her halted her advancements, and demanded her attention. A certain crystal-eyed man, hand in pocket, smirk affixed, was stopped before her. When he began his movements toward her, Elena wasn't sure if she wanted to stomp on his foot or swoon at his looks. Toe to toe now, she felt his breath tickling her ear as he bent at the waist, almost like a bow, to whisper in her ear.

"It was enchanting to meet you, Little One."

* * *

Small beads of perspiration formed at Elena's hairline as she wiped the diner tables down. It was almost 11 A.M., and the wait staff was preparing for workday lunch rush. Her baby blue uniform dress had already been stained today by a small child's tantrum that had resulted in ketchup being tossed. The bleached apron tied at the waist held thirty-five dollars in tips, cash, from the six or so tables she'd already serves this morning. Mondays had always been one of the diner's busiest days.

Since Friday night, she'd been working distractedly. She hadn't been able to put as much of her attention into her regulars as she normally would. Two days ago, she'd forgotten in which aisle the hammers were located at The Tool Box, and just this morning, she'd forgotten Paul's second cup of creamer for his coffee, something she'd not done since she'd begun serving the old man years ago. Despite her best attempts, she hadn't been able shake the feeling of Damon's breath on her neck. She felt it when she was placing orders for cheeseburgers. She felt it when she was restocking the tools. She felt it even when she was rejecting the advances of drunken twenty-something college boys at the club.

"'Lena! You've got a delivery!" she heard Daisy shout from the front. Elena hurried to the register, worried. She never got packages, especially not at work. She recognized the signature brown button-down capped shirt and shorts of the UPS deliveryman. She registered the clipboard in his hand briefly before allowing her gaze to fall upon the arrangement in front of her. Stunning spurts of tangerine and salmon peonies shuffled with pomegranate bleeding hearts sprung up at her from a squat cubed vase. Not having received such a beautiful gift since her high school graduation, Elena was stunned into silence. The deliveryman motioned for her to sign, which she did quickly. She didn't notice his departure, nor did she notice the pick-up of the hustle and bustle of the diner. She did, however, notice the small black envelope propped from the middle of the arrangement. Her hand shakily took the envelope, flipped up the flap, and removed a palm-sized cream flat card lined with black detailing. Two simple sentences were etched elegantly onto its surface:

_I'm aware that you don't want to hear my voice, but I'd love to hear yours. Dinner Friday night, 7 P.M.?_

And below it, seven digits: a cell phone number.

_Well, fuck, there goes my Friday night again_.

* * *

**A/N: I won't normally be updating as rapidly as this, but I wanted to get a second chapter out because I won't be able to update this coming weekend. I really wanted Elena to meet Damon, so I was excited to see how that would play out. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Reviews are always welcome!**

**Also, any thoughts on where and how the date should go down? Let me know.**


	3. Chapter 3: Going Places

**A/N: I apologize for the amount of times this was uploaded. The website was being finnicky, and it was annoying me. Also, I know I said I wouldn't be able to update until after this weekend, but it turns out that I was able to get wifi where I am, so I was able to upload the chapter. Hope you enjoy it; I worked hard on it for you all c:**

* * *

The rubber soles of Elena's high tops screeched in protest against the marble flooring of Caroline's office. "Do you mind telling me what the _fuck_ Lover Boy's brother thinks he's doing, sending flowers to Daisy's?" Her question was punctuated with the quick flailing of the cardstock flat card in the blonde's general direction. Caroline glanced up momentarily, a knowing smirk crossing her features, before her eyes returned to her computer screen. "Forbes, God damn it, how did he even know where I work? And how did he know when my shift was? _Caroline_."

This time, the girl didn't look up, but the smirk widened into a toothy grin, her dimple making an appearance on her right cheek. "There is a slight chance that a certain brother contacted my assistant this morning, requesting your information. And there is also a marginally bigger chance that I gave her the go-ahead to give it to him." Elena's tongue clicked against the inside of her cheek. She could feel the anger coming to a rolling boil, making its way up from her toes, until it escaped from her mouth.

"_Why_ in God's name would you _do_ that? Did my bluntness toward him last night not make it clear to you that he isn't exactly on my 'Plan to Marry' list? Because I can assure you, I most certainly will _not_ be discreetly leaving a Tiffany's catalogue lying around for _him_ to find! He's a grade-A dickwad!"

"I dunno, El," Caroline drawled unsurely "His dick didn't seem _that_ wadded to me last night. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was on the straight and narrow path right toward _you_." Her voice peaked on the last word, and she pointed and winked at her friend.

Elena stared dumbfounded at the successful woman in front of her, who was now behaving like a middle school girl. Her palm rested on her forehead exasperatedly, and a quiet huff _whooshed_ from between her lips. She realized that she wasn't going to get anywhere by talking to Caroline. Talking to Damon, however, would get her places.

* * *

Elena's phone was already in her hand by the time she reached the lobby of Caroline's office building; she'd never unlocked her phone and opened up an app so fast in her life. Her fingers flew as she tapped the screen, typing in the numbers written on the small card in her other hand.

"Salvatore," a smooth voice clipped.

"So are you picking me up Friday, or do I need to arrange for a ride to dinner?" Elena asked with a smirk.

"Elena?" She heard noises of shifting paper and fabric in the background, and then the muffled sounds of breathing as Damon rearranged the phone against his ear.

"That's the name on my birth certificate." Elena won a low chuckle in response.

"I've got to be honest, I didn't think you'd call. Or at the very least I expected you to rant and rave for half an hour, detailing every single thing I did wrong in my request for your presence at dinner. I'm a little bit disappointed," Damon said, laughing openly. Elena could just see him propped against a large desk covered in papers with that trademark smirk of his plastered on his face.

"I considered that," she began haughtily "but then I figured that Friday might be fun. Food, drinks, our ever-continuous banter—you know, the works."

"I've been told that I dole out 'the works' _quite_ well." His sentence hung in the air, dripping with innuendo, and Elena would be lying if she said it didn't spike her pulse just a tad.

"Mhm, we'll see. Where will you be taking me anyway? Somewhere far from the flashing lights of the paparazzi, I assume."

"Hate to break it to ya, Sweet Cheeks, but the paps can't help but fling themselves at this gorgeous body." Elena snorted. "But I will try to get us somewhere private. I'll pick you up around 6:30. Text me your address, and any secret passwords that may be needed to get past the guard dogs and laser beams that I'm sure are outside your place," Damon yielded.

Upon agreeing, Elena said her goodbyes and disconnected the call. Heaving a sigh of relief, she wondered if the thrill she felt was some sort of omen—good or bad she couldn't tell. She sent the text, along with the obligatory witty statement, and nervously bit her nails, a childhood habit that had, as of Friday, seemed to resurface.

The response was almost immediate: _Your carriage will arrive at 6:30 sharp, Princess. Oh, and don't forget your fancy dress and glass slippers. Something tells me you'll be needing them. ;)_

* * *

By the time Elena found the dress she'd been looking for, mountains of T-shirts and jeans and skirts had risen seemingly from the floor. She'd emptied her entire wardrobe, and with a laugh, remembered the scene in _The Great Gatsby_ in which Jay was tossing silken shirts of pink and purple and green pastel at Nick and Daisy. But rather than Chinese silk button-downs, her wardrobe consisted of Wal-Mart and Target brands.

Stowed in the back of her closet, though, was the garment she'd had in mind since she'd received the dinner invitation. For her high school graduation, her mother had promised to get her a fancy dress. Elena, unaware that her mother was collaborating with Caroline in the creation of a one-of-a-kind piece, insisted that not too much money be spent on the outfit. She'd been stunned when her mother and best friend unveiled their brainchild.

Now, as she pulled the slip out of the closet, memories of her mother washed over her, and a small smile graced her lips. The soft yellow fabric ran through her fingers like water as she stroked the white lace Peter Pan collar. It was a simple shift dress that offered just enough fit and flare to show her shape. The lower hemline was trimmed with a thick band of polished pastel yellow stones, only slightly lighter than the color of the fabric.

She laid the dress across her bed, leaving the chore of putting away the rest of her wardrobe for later, and traipsed into the bathroom. She'd decided earlier that day that, after her shower, she would blow-dry for manageability. After doing so, she'd separated it into parts and wrapped each section around a cylindrical hot roll. Standing in front of her bathroom mirror now, she carefully removed the rolls, watching the tendrils fall in soft waves. Lifting her bangs at the roots, she brought them upward and back, shifting them forward for a little puff of volume, and secured them with a hair-colored bobby pin.

With a spritz of perfume, a swipe of mascara, and a slather of lipstick, Elena was ready to head out the door. It was 6:55, and her nerves had kicked in fifteen minutes ago. Little knots tied and untied themselves in her stomach as she fiddled with her fingers. She didn't know what to do while she waited for Damon, but her problem was soon solved with a knock on the door. She strode over, placed her hand on the knob, took a steadying breath, and opened the door.

She smiled widely at the sight of him in his black button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and charcoal dress pants, and then remembered that she was supposed to dislike him. _It's just so damn hard to when he's grinning like that_. "Hi," she exhaled.

"Well, hello there," he replied, tilting his head and scanning his eyes up, down, and then back up her body. "You look incredible." He leaned in and pressed his lips to her cheek, and she thought, _Holy fuck, they're even softer than they look_. She looked down and blushed. "Shall we go?" He gestured toward the hallway and opened his stance.

"Yeah, let me grab my stuff." She swiftly snatched up her clutch and keys from the side table near the door, and smiled at Damon as she stepped into the hallway. He offered his arm to her, and she hooked elbows with him, placing her hand delicately on his forearm.

"Am I allowed to ask where we're going?"

"You are."

"Am I going to get an answer?" she asked playfully.

"Depends. How much do you want to know?" He looked down at her with his lopsided smile.

"Ideally I'd like to know the gist of tonight."

"All you're going to get out of me is that we're going to a little art gallery I found on one of my late-night excursions around New York."

"Did this excursion involve running away from those camera-wielding fiends?" she asked cheekily.

"How did _you_ know, Sherlock?" he questioned with a mock-surprised expression. She smacked his chest lightly with the back of her hand and giggled.

She was greeted by a sleek black Audi A5 coupe, and whistled appreciatively. She hadn't expected anything less, of course. He _was_ Damon, after all, and even after the short amount of time she'd been acquainted with him, she could tell he was one for the finer things in life.

"Your carriage, Princess," he said, opening the door for her and winking. He closed it quietly and made a grand show of sauntering around the front end of the car before getting in on his own side and turning the key in the ignition. He shifted in his seat and faced her. "You ready to rock and roll?"

The pair pulled up alongside the curb in front of CrEATe Art. True to Damon's description, the gallery was small, but only because the other half of the space had been transformed into a makeshift bistro. The oak French doors had been propped open to allow the crisp breeze into the gallery, and the tea lights that were strung from tree to tree outside reflected off of the windows almost mystically. Damon slid his hand along Elena's arm and brought her hand back to the crook of his elbow, patting it gently.

Canvases lined the walls from floorboard to ceiling in a disorganized yet somehow orderly way. The mismatched frames somehow added to the charm of the place, and Elena couldn't help but smile at the diversity and uniqueness of each painting. She and Damon ambled along, admiring the works of art, discussing each piece's intricacies and details. A few times, one of them would take a playful shot at the other, and they'd both break out in laughter, bursting the bubble of silence in the venue.

"Okay, so, the best part of this place is that their café specializes in something that's going to blow your mind." Damon's smile reminded Elena of an 8-year old Jeremy on Christmas morning, grinning like the Cheshire Cat at the amount of presents he'd received. They walked up to the maitre d', a young woman, no older than twenty-two, behind a podium. Her face lit up in recognition when she registered who Damon was; he caught her before she could make a scene. "Hi, reservations for two under _Salvatore_. And please seat us in the most private area you have."

She nodded briskly, pulling two menus from the stack to her right. "This way please." The girl led the couple to the far right corner of the space, an area shielded by an L-shaped wall that displayed paintings on the other side. Neither Elena nor Damon was visible to anyone walking through the door of the gallery, a blessing for which the two were very grateful. "Your server will be right out." She immediately turned on her heel and scurried off, probably out of embarrassment.

"I wouldn't be surprised if a grainy cell phone photograph of us appeared on Perez Hilton within the next twenty minutes," Damon said flatly. "_Damon Salvatore on a Date with Mystery Brunette._ I mean, couldn't they come up with something a little more original?"

"Well, it's a good thing this isn't a date then." Even the words felt sharp coming out of her mouth, stinging her more than she'd like to admit.

A confused expression befell Damon. "Not a date?" he asked, a trace of hurt just barely detectable in his tone. Elena looked at him as if he were incompetent.

"Yeah. Your girlfriend won't have to worry about anyone stealing you away, at least not me."

"Girlfriend?"

"Are you daft? Yes, girlfriend. The blonde that was attached to your arm all night at the after-party," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. A look of clarity dawned on him a millisecond before laughter erupted from his chest.

"Oh, my God, Elena. You mean Lexi?" He was wheezing at this point, pounding on his chest to keep from choking. Elena didn't appreciate being laughed at, and scowled at him. He held up a palm, releasing the remnants of his laughter before continuing. "I'm sorry, I think I just died a little inside at the mental image of Lexi and me dating." Elena's expression turned from angry to perplexed. "I've known the girl since she was born. Christ, she's been my brother's best friend since they received custom silver rattles. She's practically my sister. Dating her would border on incest." Another chuckle popped forth from him, and he struggled to contain it.

"Wait then why…" Elena trailed off, still befuddled.

"I didn't have a date for the event, and my publicist told me that it would look bad for my image or something if I didn't have someone on my arm. I asked Lexi as a favor, seeing as how she owed me one from that one time in college." Elena's eyebrow quirked at that, but she didn't say a word.

"So, you're single then?"

"As single as Damon Salvatore can be," he said with a wink. She took that as a yes.

"Shit, then what happens when my face is plastered all over gossip websites next to _yours_? The poor readers will have to shield their eyes at the unfortunate looking Damon Salvatore," Elena mocked with a gasp. Damon's eyes screwed up playfully at her comment before he balled up his napkin and threw it at her. She caught it gracefully, holding it up like a prize and smirking at him.

"I seem to recall that you're a fan of beverages of the alcoholic nature, am I correct?" Elena rolled her eyes, but nodded. "Great, I'll order us some wine." As if on cue, the waiter sidled up to the table. A surge of gratitude to whatever deity was out there coursed through Elena at the realization that having a male waiter meant that she wouldn't have to feel the heat of jealousy during the meal. "We'll have a bottle of whatever your best wine is," Damon said, gesturing to the waiter.

"Yes, sir, I'll bring that right out. May I offer you two a bread basket?" The man held a basket of an assortment of breads and butters between Elena and Damon. Elena nodded her assent, and the bundle was placed on the table. "I'll be right back with your drinks." His exit was swift, much like the maitre d's, but lacked the essence of embarrassment the girl had possessed.

"Damon, either there is some sort of spice in this butter, or small bugs are cocooned in it," Elena whispered conspiratorially. The man across from her laughed, his blue eyes sparkling.

"This ball," he said, pointing to the butter on the far left "is pomegranate butter. The one in the middle is rosemary butter, and the last one is cinnamon butter. The rosemary one goes best with the Focaccia bread, and the other two butters go with pretty much any of the other breads."

"So you've been here before?" Elena eyed him curiously.

"I took my parents here for their 30th anniversary last year. Mom got a kick out of the meal; talked about it for ages with her girlfriends," he answered offhandedly. The waiter returned then with a bottle of wine and two glasses, pouring a light pink liquid to the one-third point of each glass. Elena caught the scent of strawberry and something spicy in its aroma.

"Are you ready to order, or would you like more time?" the waiter asked. Damon looked at Elena in question, and when she nodded, he gestured for her to order first.

"I'll have 'The Spaghetti Night' please," she said with a smile. The waiter reached for her menu politely.

"Sir?"

"'Resurrection of Spice,' but hold the capers, thank you," Damon replied warmly. The waiter took his menu, assured the couple that their food would be out shortly, and again took his leave.

"So are you from here originally?" Elena asked, tapping into her high school journalistic tendencies. She propped her chin in her hand and waited patiently for his response.

Damon cleared his throat before responding: "No. I was born in New Orleans, and lived in LA for a few years to revive the family business before moving back to Louisiana."

"What's the family business?" Elena's question evoked a surprised expression on Damon's face.

"You don't know?"

"I think it's safe to assume that I don't. I did just ask you what it was, did I not?" she replied with a quirked brow.

"Salvatore Productions." Elena shook her head, indicating that she still had no clue what he was talking about. "Produced over 300 films in the past fifty years or so…" he trailed off. The dull light in Elena's eyes proved that, even after this new information, she was unaware of his family's standings. Reluctantly, Damon clarified, "Dad produced _Midnight Mayhem_." This time, the light in her eyes burned with recognition. "And no, I didn't get the part because of him." His words were slightly biting, but only because of the underlying hurt that even a talented actor such as Damon couldn't disguise.

"I never said you did," Elena said softly. As the corners of Damon's eyes tightened in scrutiny at her, he realized that she had a look of understanding on her face. "My family's lineage dates back to a founding family in my hometown. A lot of people suspected that I was favored because of my last name, and maybe I was. But that doesn't mean I didn't work my ass off to get where I am today, not that I'm exactly living what you could call the good life. I'm sure it's the same for you."

Damon's eyes softened and a tender smile appeared on his face as he looked at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the waiter arriving with their meals. Elena gasped before stifling it with her hand. The dish placed in front of her was singlehandedly the most creative thing she'd ever seen. Rather than the typical heaping of noodles, pasta sauce, and meatballs, the chefs had created their own version of Van Gogh's "The Starry Night." A large cluster of basil sprigs, tiered in height, was placed gently atop accurately positioned swirls of multicolored noodles. These noodles, dyed in shades of blue and yellow, crested and fell in exact replication of the real painting. A large meatball, coated in some sort of creamy yellow sauce, perched on the top right of the arrangement.

She looked up at Damon, her eyes crinkled in happiness. "Do you like it?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"It's incredible, Damon! How do they even _do_ this?" she wondered aloud. Her date chuckled at her kid-in-a-candy-store enthusiasm. "And yours! It's- how the _fuck_ did they manage to recreate Christ with little hot dogs?!"

Twenty minutes later, Elena had devoured most of her meal. She'd taken to it quite voraciously, and blushed when she caught Damon observing her appraisingly.

"Don't be embarrassed; it's nice to see a girl who can eat, as cliché as that sounds." He smiled at her encouragingly as she finished up the last few bites on her plate. "Do you have room for dessert?"

"After that?" she asked. "I really don't think I'll be able to eat for another two weeks. Even if I weren't so full, I don't think anything could top the absolute scrumptiousness of that spaghetti, at least not for a while."

Damon smiled at her and flagged the waiter down. He politely requested the bill, and dodged Elena's grabby hands as she tried to snatch it up. "Ah-ah-ah," he tsked "at the risk of succumbing to social norms, I do agree with the idea that the gentleman _always_ pays for dinner." The smirk on his face that melted Elena's resolve was the only reason he got away with it.

The round bulbs above them flickered gently with the sway of the wind as the couple stepped out into the night air. Elena felt the warmth from Damon's hand radiating just centimeters away from her lower back, and it reminded her of how Stefan was with Caroline, tentative and nervous. Except Damon wasn't that type—he wasn't the kind of person who waited for something. He took control, and Elena thought briefly that perhaps that was one of the characteristics that made him so appealing to her.

She wondered if maybe this time he was waiting, looking for some kind of sign from her. Her sandal-clad feet inched her body toward Damon's. It seemed like this was the signal he was looking for, because his hand wrapped itself around her hip, his thumb tracing lazy circles just above her panty line.

"I had a lot of fun tonight," she exhaled happily, reaching out and skimming her fingers alone the brick wall to her right. She looked up at him and smiled brilliantly, watching his lips curve into a smile.

"It's not over _just_ yet, Missy. We're going-" His sentence was cut off by the sound of artificial crickets. Damon huffed angrily and fished his phone out of his back pocket with his free hand. "What the hell, Stef? I thought I told you not to-" Something his brother said made him stop. "What? But she's not- I _know_, Stefan, but she's not even supposed to eat anything this late. Just- Okay, just take her to the hospital, and I'll meet you there. Okay, thanks for calling." He tapped the phone's screen to end the call, pressed the lock button, and replaced the phone in his pocket, all in one fluid motion. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tilted his face toward the floor, angry lines appearing between his eyebrows.

Elena stood quietly next to him for a moment before she gently touched his bicep. She ignored to instinctual urge to swoon at the tight muscle beneath her fingers, and instead added the slightest bit of pressure to her touch. "Damon, are you okay?"

At the sound of her voice, he lifted his face, leveling his eyes with hers. Assessing her with a steady gaze, he read everything about her that he could in just a few seconds before he spoke: "It's my daughter."

* * *

**A/N: This chapter took quite a while, and involved a lot of sentence working and reworking. Let me know how you guys like this chapter. If you have anything in particular that you'd like to see in the next chapter, please also include that in your review. Have a great weekend!**


	4. Chapter 4: Doppelgänger

**A/N: I'm sorry this took so long, guys. This week has been crazy hectic for me! Read on!**

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Elena didn't know which emotion she should process first: the surprise at the newly-learned fact that Damon had a daughter; the disappointment that her date was being cut short; or the sharp pang of unexpected worry at the thought of Damon's little girl being hurt. Her thoughts were scattered and jumping from train to train in her mind, but the most prevalent thought was: _Oh, God, is she okay?_ She stroked the top of Damon's hand lightly with her thumb in an attempt to soothe him, their hands linked on the center console of the Audi as they sped to the hospital.

"I just don't- I told him not to let her- He _knows_ that she isn't supposed to eat after 7. She's three years old, damn it. She's supposed to have been asleep for two hours by 7-o'clock" They'd stopped at a light, and Damon's elbow rested against the steering wheel, his palm against his forehead.

"Damon, I know you don't want to hear this, but try to calm down. I'm sure she'll be okay; Stefan has this under control."

"He obviously didn't have it _that_ under control," he snapped. Elena squeezed his hand, causing him to glance at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, I'm just really scared."

"I know you are. I'm scared, too. But the best place she can be right now is at the hospital, where there are tons of doctors and nurses who can help her," Elena said reassuringly.

"She's just so young, and the fact that I wasn't there…" Elena's finger halted its rote movements. She knew it was irrational, but she couldn't help but feel like Damon regretted their date. He noticed the change in behavior and pressed his own thumb gently into her palm as if to say that he knew it wasn't her fault, that it was okay, that _they_ were okay.

The Audi swerved into the hospital parking lot and into a snug spot in the first row, and for the second time that night, Elena thanked the Heavens for luck, a prayer she quickly rescinded. At the sighting of Damon's car, a dozen flashbulbs went off in their faces, and jumbled, excited questions bombarded the couple from every direction. Elena ducked her head and allowed herself to be pulled toward the emergency room, concentrating her attention solely on the warmth of Damon's hand in her own.

One of the security guards just inside the entrance noticed the commotion and rushed to assist Damon and Elena, shouting for his partner to help him sequester the mob of reporters. Elena, still half-blind from the flashes, strode alongside Damon to the receptionist, whose reaction to Damon was quickly camouflaged by a mask of professionalism.

"Katherine Salvatore. My brother checked her in here about ten minutes ago."

"Room 304, sir, Go down the hall and make a left." Elena moved to follow him, but heard the voice of the woman behind the desk ring out again. "Ma'am, it's family only."

Elena shot a look at Damon before blurting out the only thing she could think of: "I'm her mother."

The woman looked at her uneasily, but Elena didn't give it a second thought, taking the opportunity to bolt to Damon's side. Her gaze flickered to his face for just a second to be sure that he didn't think she was some psycho, worried that she'd overstepped a huge line. All she saw in his face was relief. His hand was outstretched for her, opening and closing not out of impatience, but out of desperation. She clasped her hand with his and followed him down the hallway.

As room 304 came into view, Elena released Damon's hand and nudged him toward the entrance. The small push was all he needed, and she watched him jog the last few feet into the room. Elena walked at a slower pace to give him time with his daughter. She stood outside the doorway for a few minutes, overhearing hushed whispers, before shuffling in quietly. She saw Stefan sitting in the far left corner and waved to him timidly. Behind him was a large window, the blinds pulled back to allow the moonlight in; the foot of a bed with mussed sheets was to her right. Elena could see the broad expanse of Damon's back, perched erect on the edge of the bed, obscuring Elena's view of its occupant. Stepping forward, hesitantly, for she didn't know if Damon wanted privacy with his daughter, she placed her hand softly on his left shoulder blade, now able to see the tiny body huddled underneath the sheets.

Big doe eyes shifted their focus from Damon to Elena, flooring her with their penetrating hazel gaze. Chestnut shoulder-length hair framed the child's heart-shaped face, a short cluster of bangs brushing her forehead just above her left eye brow. The little girl's bright eyes, teeming with mischief and excitement, warmed, the edges of them creasing in mirth against her creamy alabaster skin. Her teeny lips, almost exact replicas of Damon's shapely ones, were stretched into a brilliant smile, the light glinting off of her small-scale teeth. _Mother of God, she looks just like me when I was a kid_. "Hi, 'Wena!" Her voice was high, and tinkled like little bells. Elena's heart melted when a small hand, chubby and dimpled, shot up from the covers and waved exaggeratedly at her.

"Hey, Katherine," Elena responded, returning the smile.

"It's Katie!" the child said, beaming at her.

"Katie…" she said quietly, correcting herself.

Behind them, a throat cleared. Each head in the room turned toward the doorway, where a man in the latter half of his sixties, clad in a white lab coat, stood. "Hello, I assume you all are the family?" We all nodded, eager to hear what the doctor had to say. He shook hands with Stefan first, before walking toward the hospital bed and shaking hands with Damon and Elena. He looked at Katie, before saying, "Hi there, Ms. Katherine. Can I ask you a question?" She nodded shyly. "Did you have blueberries today?"

"Unca' Stefan gave me a bwuebewwy muffin befo' nighty night." The doctor nodded, and then turned to face the adults.

"It seems that Katherine had a reaction to the blueberries, and that's what caused her throat to close up, along with the other symptoms she had. Normally, if a child just breaks out in a rash, we wouldn't consider it a life-threatening allergy; but in this case, since her airway was also blocked from the reaction, her allergy to blueberries can be considered severe. We've prescribed you some EpiPens in case of emergency. It's a good idea to keep these handy—in your bag, at her school, the car even."

"How has she never had this kind of reaction before?" Damon wondered.

"It's possible that the dose of blueberries she had tonight was much higher than any in the past, and that's why her reaction was so severe. More likely is that this allergy has developed over time. Many people develop allergies to things they'd never previously been reactive to over the course of their lives."

Damon nodded and thanked him. The doctor suggested that they take Katie home and tuck her into bed, maybe make her a cup of tea to calm her nerves. "You ready to get out of here, baby girl?" Damon asked, stroking her head. He scooped her up and balanced her on one arm, allowing her to rest her forehead in his neck. His other hand placed itself on Elena's back, and they exited the room.

"Stef, thank you so much for bringing her here," Damon said, craning his neck to see his brother.

"Of course. I just feel terrible. I know you said not to give her any food after seven, but I wanted to give her a little treat after our day." The worry lines on Stefan's forehead deepened.

"Listen, man, it's not your fault; I totally understand," Damon reassured, clapping his brother's shoulder. Stefan nodded solemnly.

"I parked in the front, but I'm gonna run out and bring the car around the back so the three of you can get out without the paps swarming. I'll just bring your car over to your house in the morning, and we'll do a swap," Stefan said quickly, rooting in his pocket for his keys.

"'Lena, I'll make this up to you, I swear. And I'll drop you off on the way to my house if you want," Damon rushed out, blindly handing his own keys to his brother.

"Hush, it's not a big deal at all. I'm just glad Katie here is okay," Elena said, ruffling the little girl's hair gently. "Do you need help with her? I can help you make the tea or whatever, and call a cab when she's asleep."

"That would be great." Damon's responding smile made a bud of emotion bloom within her chest, and she worked to keep her heartbeat under control.

Elena sat with Katie in the backseat of Stefan's steel blue Volvo s80. _It's fitting—a conservative car for a conservative man_, Elena thought. She, Damon, and Katie had managed to pull out of the hospital unnoticed, while Stefan took the brunt of the blow out front from the paparazzi. The hum of the engine had lulled the small child to sleep, and Elena had her curled up into her side, the small head of brown hair tucked securely against her hip. Stefan's lack of a car seat had made her nervous until she realized that Katie probably didn't drive with him often, and that they most likely hadn't gone out today to warrant one.

They'd driven about half an hour out of the city and pulled up to a gate. Damon rolled the window down, punched in a five-digit code, and watched as the enormous gates parted. "You asked _me_ for a secret code to get into my apartment building, but you have your own? Cute," Elena said jokingly. His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror, his eyebrow shooting up playfully.

The car advanced slowly, curving around a circular driveway carefully before pulling to a stop just in front of the door. Elena was preoccupied with gently shifting Katie so that the child was in her arms, her head cuddled into Elena's shoulder. She slid out through the open door, holding Katie tightly, before turning around.

In front of her stood a colonial-style home, complete with a white façade and matching crimson shutters and front door. A single large window in the center of the upper half of the home was flanked on either side by two slightly smaller windows. On the lower half, the door was centered between two medium-sized, white pillars, with two pairs of windows identical to the ones above them on either side. Even in the dim lighting provided by the porch light, Elena could see healthy green shrubbery hedging the house just below the lower windows. Elena gazed at it in wonder; it was beautifully crisp, and she loved it.

Still in awe at the splendor of the exterior of the house, she followed Damon through the door. Dark mahogany flowed through the floors into the staircase and other wood accents, and the scent of wood wafted up to Elena's nose. Hints of white and red, clearly tailor-designed to match the exterior, were sprinkled throughout the details of the furniture. It was obvious that someone had gone to great lengths to ensure that this home was outfitted in a way that was not only proper and clean, but also homey and lived-in.

Traces of Katie were evident throughout the interior of the home, Elena noticed. Colorful picture frames holding photographs of the little girl and her father were displayed along the mantle of the ornate fireplace in the center of the far wall of the living room. A small, bright pink caddy overflowed with toys beside the couch. To Elena's right, she could just see into the kitchen enough to notice child-like drawings organized neatly on the refrigerator door.

Still clutching Katie securely to her side, Elena stood awkwardly in the room as Damon stowed away his keys and coat. Approaching her, he said, "Here, let me tuck Katie into bed while you make some tea. I'm sure your nerves need it more than this little one's." His hands placed themselves on her hips, and then, before she knew it, Katie was being lifted away from her. Her eyes followed his form up the stairs before she turned and sauntered into the kitchen. After a few botched attempts at mapping the geography of Damon's kitchen, Elena finally found the coffee mugs, pulling two from the cabinet. She filled each with water and placed them in the microwave for sixty seconds. She'd discovered a box of assorted teas a few minutes prior in the drawer just below the coffeemaker, and had grabbed two chamomile bags from the container. Quickly removing them from their packets, she dropped one bag in each cup, and placed the cups on the dark granite island in the center of the kitchen. With nothing left but to watch the tea steep, she turned back to the sink and began idly washing the few dishes stacked neatly at the bottom of it.

Minutes passed in silence before she heard the gentle creaking of wood beneath the weight of Damon's feet behind her. "'Lena, what're you doing?" She didn't have to turn around to see the amusement alight in his eyes.

"I got bored, so…" she responded, gesturing to the task at hand.

"You do realize this is all very…domestic, don't you?" Damon drawled.

"Washing dishes does tend to be a domestic chore, Damon. As does dusting— speaking of, have you done any of that since you moved in?" Elena asked jokingly, wiping her finger across the windowsill directly in front of her, knowing that her finger would be spotless even if she did inspect it. Damon didn't reply, so she assumed that she'd said enough to shut him up for a few minutes at least.

"I haven't personally dusted since I moved in, but I'm sure my mother has. Or my grandmother before her. This is a family estate. My parents gave me the deed when Katie came along so that she'd have room to play and such; though it'd be nice to grow up where her dad did."

His reply startled Elena, almost causing her to drop the last dish she was rinsing. She turned around, dish and towel in hand, and spoke as she dried: "You grew up here?"

"Yep. In fact, that is the very sink my mother used to bathe Stefan and me in as babies. And this island here," Damon said, patting the granite, "is where my father sat me when I fell off the swing that hung from the old Oak tree in the back, and ended up with a two-inch gash along my knee." A sense of pride oozed from Damon's pores—it was obvious to Elena that this house was special to him. It reminded her of the connection she felt to her childhood home, a memory quickly dispelled to avoid the encroaching wave of sadness. She smiled at him before taking a seat across from him and picking up her mug. The tangy, lemony aroma of the chamomile soothed her nerves of the evening's stresses, and her eyes closed and she smiled as she sipped the tea slowly.

"So it's just you and Katie in this big house?" Elena asked, attempting to mask her curiosity with nonchalance.

Damon's eyebrow slid up almost imperceptibly, but he didn't comment on the questions that Elena didn't ask: Did he have a girlfriend? Did Katie have a mother? "Yep, just us. Mom and Dad stay with us when they come up to visit., though"

"And…Katie's mom?" She averted her eyes to the spoon she was spinning in her mug.

"Not in the picture," he replied curtly.

"I'm sorry, that's not my-" He shook his head to cut her off, and calmed her with a gentle look. A silence fell upon the couple—not awkward, just quiet.

Suddenly, she stood and grinned mischievously. Waltzing around the island, she picked up his hand and slid it into hers, leading him into the living room. Glancing around the room, her eyes fell on a stereo system set up on a bookshelf on the far left wall. Lifting a finger to Damon to tell him to wait, she traipsed over to the system and pressed the power button.

The opening notes of "Feel So Close" streamed out of the speakers at a respectable volume, just loud enough for the two to dance, but not quite loud enough to rouse Katie from her slumber. She ran giddily back to Damon, jumping up and down to the beat. He watched her in amusement for a moment before she tugged on his arm, begging him to dance with her.

_I feel so close to you right now_

_ It's a force field_

Hips swayed as feet shuffled to the music. Elena's arms were extended toward the ceiling, whipping back and forth, her face raised in elation. A soft, warm pair of hands clasped her wrists together and joined them over her head, before skimming down her forearms, biceps, ribcage, finally resting on her hips.

_I wear my heart upon my sleeve like a big deal_

_ Your love pours down on me, surrounds me like a waterfall_

She beamed at him, the smile lighting up her face magnificently, eliciting one from him. The two continued dancing—jumping, really—elatedly. As the song came to a close, Damon realized that the tension of the day, once coiled tightly in his shoulders, ready to pounce, had melted away like butter in the midst of the laughter and happiness that Elena exuded.

She exhaled, wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that had formed at her hairline, and glanced at the face of her watch quickly. "It's getting pretty late. I should probably…" She trailed off, looking over Damon's shoulder and out one of the windows beside the fireplace. "Shit, it's pouring!" Her hand instantly raked itself into her hair and she began pacing a short distance. "A taxi is never going to come in this weather," she mumbled.

"Elena, chill. There are three other bedrooms in this house. Go choose one to stay the night in, and I'll take you home tomorrow. No biggie," he shrugged, forcing indifference into his voice. Elena had already seen the flash of excitement in his eyes before he had the chance to douse it.

"Damon, I really don't want to impose. I can just call Caro-"

"Shut up, Little One. Just accept my offer. You can even make breakfast in the morning as your rent payment," he teased. She looked unsure still, and bit her lip. "Come on," he said, patting her waist, "You go on and start up the stairs. I'll be right behind you; I have to check the door first."

Her steps fell heavily on the wooden staircase as she tried as best as she could to ascend them quietly. As she reached the landing, she noticed she was standing in a hallway. Two doors lined the wall on the left up ahead, and from the placement of the windows on exterior of the house, she assumed that two more lined the same wall behind her. Directly ahead, a white wooden door, accented by a circular carving at the top third of the panel, and other intricate designs on the rest of it, was tightly shut. She began walking in that direction, lured by the mystery of it coupled with the lingering scent of vanilla and spice.

"That's my room," she heard from close behind her. A strong hand was stretched in front of her from just behind her right shoulder, its pointer finger gesturing to the closed door.

Elena blushed and ducked her head. "Right." Nodding bluntly, she turned to the second of the two doors on the left, the one closest to the stairs, assuming that the one next to his was Katie's. Placing her hand on the doorknob, she looked to Damon for confirmation. He nodded, and she hesitantly turned the knob.

The aroma of lavender seemed to be laced throughout the room, shades of lilac and white being the decorative colors of choice. It was tastefully finished, with a white down duvet cover trimmed by a thin, light purple fabric, and purple and white throw pillows tossed elegantly across the surface of the display. A white dresser just across from the foot of the bed offered a few drawers and a mirror. The closet, she noted, was to the left of the entryway and vacant. Crossing the room and passing through the only other doorway in sight, Elena found herself in a Jack-and-Jill bathroom, connected to Katie's room by a now securely shut door.

Elena turned back into the main suite and faced her host. "Damon, this is beautiful. Thank you for letting me stay here," she said with a gracious smile.

"It's really no problem." He returned the gesture kindly. "There is a spare toothbrush under the sink, toothpaste on the counter. Let me see if I can go find you something to wear." She nodded, and watched him exit the room, leaving her to absorb her new surroundings.

A few moments later, Damon returned with a stack of cloth in his hands. "I found an old T-shirt of mine. It's from my high school football days." He cracked a grin, offering up the pile. "And the bottoms are just a pair of sleep pants," he continued, gesturing to the darker gray material with his finger. She smiled in thanks again, and turned, shuffling into the bathroom. After briskly brushing her teeth, she changed, the fabric sliding over her skin smoothly. She turned and regarded the back of the T-shirt with a smug smirk. In large Varsity lettering, a single word was written: SALVATORE.

Stepping into the room again, she ambled over to the bed. Damon had pulled back the duvet and fluffed a pillow for her in her absence. Sliding under, the cold sheets greeted her like a bucket of ice water: _Holy fuck, I'm in Damon Salvatore's house. In his bed. Well, okay, not __**his**__ bed, but a bed. __**In his house**__.__This is so bad._ Yet somehow, she didn't seem to care.

He approached her, a small smile on his face, and tucked the covers up to her chin. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to her cheek for the second time, their warmth soothing the shock that the icy sheets had imparted. "Goodnight, Elena. I'll see you in the morning," he murmured against her skin, lingering for just a second longer.

"'Night, Damon," she whispered back, looking up at him and contentedly cuddling further into the bed. Damon strode to the door and switched off the light, stepping into the hallway and closing the door quietly behind him. In his wake, Elena was left with a new fragrance in the room: not lavender, not vanilla and spice, but something different. Something uniquely Damon.

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**A/N: Kind of a filler chapter, but it does introduce Katherine. What do you guys think of the play on age I did with her? She's going to be OOC for sure, so we'll see a much softer, much younger side of our dear old Kat.**

**As always, please review, because I love to hear your thoughts and suggestions! Any ideas for the next chapter? It'll be the "morning after" scene, and possibly some other scenes. Stay tuned. c;**


	5. Chapter 5: Daddy Dearest

**A/N: This took quite a bit longer than I expected, but mainly because I've had a terrible cold that just hasn't abandoned me yet. Anyway, enjoy!**

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For half an hour now, Elena had been mesmerized by the small dust particles swirling in beautiful patterns amidst the columns of sunlight streaming through the blinds. She'd been up since six, watching the earth give birth to that great ball of light, the rays peeking in like curious children. With a great intake of breath, she heaved herself out of bed. She'd woken up with the determination of a 1950s housewife, imagining a large breakfast spread for Damon and Katie. She leaned out the doorway, eyeing their bedrooms. _Still asleep_, she thought with satisfaction. Her bare feet sneakily padded to the right and down the stairs, crossing the foyer of the living room and entering the side doorway of the kitchen.

She slowly traversed the kitchen, trailing her index finger across the cool surface of the countertop. One lap around the kitchen familiarized her again with her surroundings. Making her way back to the right wing of the room, she pulled open the door of the refrigerator and surveyed its contents. _Hm…raspberries…I could do something with these._ She pulled them out, snatching up the milk and carton of eggs. Turning to the right, she parted the doors of the pantry and stepped inside, searching for the necessary dry ingredients. _Chocolate chips, too_, she added quickly, grabbing the bag.

She turned and faced the island countertop, leaning her weight on her hands and tapping her fingers against the surface. She'd procured a mixing bowl from one of the cabinets, cracking a single egg and pouring its contents into the powdery mix of flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar. One and a quarter cups of milk tumbled into the bowl from the measuring cup, forming little pools of liquid laced with flecks of the dry mix on its surface. _I'm missing something_. Swiveling around to the fridge, she peeled the door open and pulled out a stick of butter from one of the bottom drawers. After popping it in the microwave to melt it, she dumped three tablespoons of it into the bowl and mixed the batter until it ran smooth. Pouring in a mix of equal parts chopped raspberries and chocolate chips, she ladled some of the concoction into a hot buttered pan.

The sizzle brought a smile to Elena's face as she flipped each circular formation of batter. She imagined that this was how her mother must have felt, cooking a big breakfast for her father, little brother, and a young Elena. In another pan, she fried three eggs, salting and peppering them modestly. She'd noticed an array of fresh fruits in the produce drawer of the fridge, and backtracked to retrieve them. She diced up some apples, bananas, cantaloupe, pineapple, and honeydew melon, squeezing in some fresh line juice to add a little kick. It wasn't a huge spread, but Elena still felt a surge of pride at her work.

The _swish_ of skin against the wooden floor made Elena's ears perk up and her body swivel to attention. Her eyes met a bare abdomen, sharply toned and almost light reflective, and ran up its length to noticeably defined pectoral muscles. By this time, Elena was sure all the moisture in her body had drained and pooled in one place, and she was suddenly parched.

"Mmmm," Damon moaned pleasurably, "What is all this?" Elena watched him wipe his hand across his eyes to clear them, and took this moment to fully embrace the picture of him, half naked in only a pair of pajama pants, standing in his kitchen. For the second time since she'd met this man, she felt the urge to brush the strands of fallen hair out of his forehead and sweep them back into his bedhead. _Fucking beautiful_, she caught herself thinking. "You know I was kidding about the whole breakfast thing right?"

"Yeah," she replied, shifting awkwardly with her arms crossed loosely, suddenly unsure of herself. "I just wanted to do something nice for you and Katie. I didn't know how long it had been since…" she trailed off, gesturing to the display.

Taking a seat in one of the breakfast stools, he smiled at her. "No, no, it's…nice. Really nice," he said quietly, spacing out for just a moment before pulling himself back in. "Anyway, have you made any coffee?"

Biting her lip to keep herself from smiling, she said, "Ah, no, actually I couldn't figure out how to use the damn thing." His smile broadened into a low chuckle before he rounded the island and went to work on the coffee machine.

"Can't go a morning without the liquid gold, you know," he said, winking.

"When does-"

"Ewena!" a high-pitched squeal pealed. A head of bouncy hair raced into the kitchen and around any obstacles to get to Elena. Katie latched onto Elena's leg with both arms, looking up at her with a dazzling grin.

"Well good morning, cutie," Elena laughed, placing her had on the crown of the child's head. "How about some packcakes, huh?" she asked, lifting the girl up into her arms. Katie nodded furiously and her smile widened. Elena moved around a bit to pull out one of the stools before settling her into it, looking up at Damon, who had taken to watching the two girls interact.

Joy overcame Katie's face as her eyes followed each raspberry-chocolate chip pancake that slid from the spatula to the plate. She watched as Elena poured her a glass of orange juice and scooped fresh fruit beside the pancakes, and proceeded to delve into the egg that was already on the plate. "Fank you, 'Wena," Katie returned through a mouthful of eggs. Elena smiled at the adorable mispronunciation. She busied herself with making plates for both Damon and herself, and plopped down into the stool across from where Damon's place was.

"Do you want some coffee?" Damon asked, his voice still tainted by sleep.

She nodded with a smile and said, "Yeah, that would be great."

"Cream? Sugar?"

"Please; two teaspoons of sugar." She served herself two pancakes and some fruit, and chewed some banana while smelling the brewing coffee. A few minutes later, Damon shuffled over to her and put a mug to the right of her plate. She glanced at it and stifled a snort at the banner screened onto the ceramic: _#1 MOM_.

Damon's gaze followed hers, and he sort of scoffed at his blunder. "That's…uh…that's Mom's, you know, for when she visits," he recovered, pointing at the mug awkwardly.

"Damon, it's fine, it's just a mug," Elena giggled, rolling her eyes at him. She watched him voraciously dig in to his plate and smiled smally to herself, returning her attention to her own breakfast.

"Daddy, what ah we gon' do today?" Damon looked at his daughter adoringly as she hopped up and down in her seat. Elena enjoyed the opportunity to act as an on-looker, and observed the father-daughter bond before her. The girl's chubby cheeks were pulled up into a smile as her little hand reach up for her dad. He, in turn, scooped her up and cuddled her in his lap, nuzzling his face into her hair and placing is chin atop her head.

"Well, baby girl," he began, looking at Elena hopefully, "I was thinking that maybe the three of us could go to the park?" He bounced Katie on his knee and rubbed her belly.

"Da pawk! Pwease, 'Wena, pwease?" Katie pleaded.

Elena looked at the pair pensively, pursing her lips, before replying. "This kid's just like you." Damon looked at her questioningly. "She's got that _thing_ about her that makes you just want to go along with whatever she says. And the two of you with your puppy dog eyes!" She laughed. "Of course I'll go with you guys. Where else would I want to be?" Both Damon's and Katie's eyes lit up with excitement, and Elena couldn't contain her own happiness.

The three of them finished their breakfasts amongst animated chatter. As they finished up, Elena piled their two plates on top of hers and stacked the two coffee mugs together, swiping up Katie's glass and placing it in the top mug. "Okay, so I'll wash up these-"

"Ah ah ah, no. You cooked breakfast; we'll clean up," Damon said, coming up behind her. "You go get ready for our day." He patted her hip gently, and Elena suddenly felt that this whole scene was picture-perfect domesticity. Another small smile escaped and she nodded, squeezing his arm, before walking by Katie, ruffling her hair, and jogging up the stairs.

Her shower was quick, and when she stepped out, she smelled like Katie's pear-scented shampoo. She wrapped the fluffy white towel around her body and stepped up to the mirror, swiping her hand across the surface to defog it. Combing a finger through her hair, she looked at her reflection, frowning at her plain features. _What does Damon Salvatore want with __**me**__?_ Hastily shaking these thoughts away, Elena combed her fingers through the wet strands of her hair and splashed cold water on her face. She stepped back into the bedroom and stopped in her tracks. _Fuck, I don't have clothes._

She shuffled over to the door and peeked her head out. "Damon?" she called out, hoping he'd hear her.

"Yeah? Are you okay?" His response was a little muffled by the distance, but it was clear enough.

"Uh, I don't…have clothes," she replied sheepishly. She sucked her lower lip in between her teeth and gnawed on it nervously. Soft footsteps sounded on the stairwell, advancing toward her room. Damon, hand clamped over his eyes, appeared in the hallway. Elena laughed freely, even snorting slightly, at the sight before her; he looked like a little boy shyly hiding his eyes.

"Damon, I'm not naked; you can look."

He opened one eye at a time behind his hand, peering out cautiously, before deciding he could lower it. "I think Lexi left some clothes in the room on the other side of the stairs. Do you want to check there?"

Elena nodded, and opened the door further, stepping out into the hallway and following Damon into the aforementioned room. He opened the door of the closet and revealed sparsely populated shelves. Securing the towel's hold with her hand, she reached up and plucked a light blue sundress off one of the hangers.

Turning to Damon, she smiled. "I think this is good." He nodded curtly and strode out of the room. She chuckled again at his innocence before returning to her room and changing. She slid on her shoes and descended the stairs, fluffing her still-damp hair. A sigh left her lips as she walked back into the kitchen. Damon was hunched over the sink, his right arm moving rapidly in a circular motion with the sponge. Katie, perched on the counter, swung her legs back and forth lazily while she dried the dish that her father had handed her.

Elena leaned against the doorframe and smiled. She pushed off of it and walked over to Damon, bumping his hip to move him out of the way. "I'll take over so you can get your pretty face on."

He feigned hurt and frowned. "You mean this face isn't pretty enough for you?" he asked, pointing to it and pouting.

Elena snorted and swatted him away. "Go shower, pretty boy." She rolled her eyes and turned back to the sink. "Okay, missy, let's finish up these dishes so you can get all gussied up." Katie nodded furiously, and the two girls got to work, prattling on about Katie's pre-school experiences.

Ten minutes later, Elena and Katie had washed, dried, and put up all the dishes, which just left lunch. "Okay, Katie, what do you say we make a picnic basket?" This idea delighted Katie, and she waited patiently as Elena retrieved lunchmeat and condiments from the refrigerator, and bread from the breadbox. Katie held the bread while Elena slathered on a layer of mustard and placed three slices of turkey for each sandwich. When this was done, Elena halved the sandwiches and bagged them in quart-sized resealable bags that she'd found during last night's hunt. Elena went back into the pantry and snatched the picnic basket off the top shelf. She stacked the sandwich bags on top of each other and placed them into the basket, adding in three chilled water bottles and a bag of grapes.

With this task completed, Elena lifted Katie off of the counter and went to set her on her feet. Katie shook her head and clung to Elena, who smiled and held the child tighter. She exited the kitchen through the side door, going into the living room and strolling around.

"'Wena, what ah you doin' heeyuh?" Katie asked curiously.

"When we got back last night, it was pouring rain, so your daddy had me stay in one of the guest rooms," Elena explained.

Katie nodded, and quieted for a moment. A small crease formed between her brows that reminded Elena of Damon, before the little girl's lips pursed slightly in confusion. "Ah you Daddy's gullfwend?"

Elena's breath caught. "I-"

"Okay, baby girl, let's get you ready," Damon interrupted. Noting Elena's panicked expression, he looked at her dubiously. She shook her head and averted her eyes, handing Katie, whose face had smoothed out slowly after the appearance of her father, to him. He nodded at her, still concerned, and walked upstairs to prepare his little girl for their day at the park.

Elena released the breath she'd been holding as she slumped onto the couch. _Holy mother of fuck._ To keep her mind away from the awkward subject Katie had unwittingly brought up, Elena stood and went to one of the bookshelves that lined the walls and began scanning the book titles. _Call of the Wild, The Scarlett Letter, Animal Farm, The Great Gatsby._ She continued studying the spines of the books, intrigued by the library he'd amassed, for fifteen minutes until she heard the distinct pattering of four feet on the stairs. Turning around, she saw Damon and Katie, hand in hand, walking toward her, Katie's two steps to Damon's one.

"I already called Stef and let him know that we're all going out; he said we'd do the car swap later today. I don't want to use up all his gas, so we're going to take the Jag instead of his car." Elena nodded, and watched Damon as he patted his pockets and mumbled a mental checklist: "Wallet, phone, keys…keys…where are the damn keys?"

"They might be on the hall table by the door," Elena offered. He looked up at her, recognition painted across his face, and smiled, pointing at her affirmatively.

"All right, then, are we ready to go?" he asked, hand on hips. Katie jumped excitedly and tugged her father's hand loose.

"Let me just go grab our lunch." Elena hurried into the kitchen and swooped up the basket, and then rushed out to meet them. "Okay, ready," she smiled brilliantly. Damon didn't hold his hand out for her, and Elena was surprised at the dull pang this caused within her. However, he returned her smile and jerked his head eagerly toward the door.

"Holy shiny," were the first words out of Elena's mouth when she saw the car they'd be driving in. "Is everything you own black?" Elena muttered under her breath, admiring the polished charcoal Jaguar XJ. Unlike the Audi, this car had four doors, which led Elena to believe that this was his every day car. Even the beep that signaled the unlocking of the vehicle was elegant, and exuded a form of sex appeal known only to luxury cars. Damon opened Elena's door, walked around the car and situated Katie in her car seat, and then hopped into his seat and turned the key in the ignition. The soft, pliant leather welcomed Elena like a hug, enveloping her in opulence.

The drive was quiet, and every once in a while, Elena would glance back at Katie in the rearview mirror and see the child happily playing with a raggedy stuffed bunny. Her eyes would trail from child to father, whom she would admire warmly. Briefly, she remembered that just last night, she'd had to remind herself of her disdain for this man. Today she was willingly subjecting herself to an entire day with not only the man she'd disliked from the moment she'd encountered him, but also with his child, whom she'd not known existed prior to the frantic phone call that had interrupted their date the night before.

Elena shook her head with a small smile; this caught Damon's attention. "What are you smiling about over there?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing, just amused by your pretty face," she quipped teasingly.

"If I'm not mistaken, this pretty face is what's keeping you here," he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Someone's cocky! If _I'm_ not mistaken, I'm here for your adorable little girl." Elena looked back at Katie and smiled at her, receiving a wide baby-toothed grin in response. She snuck a glance at Damon and laughed at his expression. "Scowling is quite unbecoming of you, if I do say so myself. I think I prefer the pretty face," Elena taunted, winking.

The car pulled into an overgrown field littered with shrubs and weeds. "Is this the part where I find out your daughter is actually a very small grown woman and your partner in crime, and you two murder me? Because this is definitely not a park, Damon." He shot her a look that told her to be patient, and exited the car to unbuckle Katie. Elena stepped out into the field and breathed in the warm air. Pulling the picnic basket out of the backseat, Elena rounded the hood of the car and met Damon and Katie. She remained silent as Damon placed the hand that was not holding his daughter to him on her lower back, leading her into the tree line that hedged the edge of the field.

The five-minute walk was peaceful, and allowed Elena to take in the wooded scenery. After gracelessly stumbling over a shrouded tree stump, Elena watched as the trees parted into a clearing vastly different than the field. Small patches of blush- and violet-colored wildflowers dotted the landscape, and just beyond a perfectly-placed felled tree trunk, there lay a small pond surrounded by more lush greenery.

"This place is beautiful," Elena breathed out.

"Bootyful!" Katie mimicked, spreading her arms wide. Damon chuckled and walked over to the tree trunk.

"I found this place back in my college days. One of the trees had fallen, so I asked Stef to come out here and help me chop it into something like a bench," he explained as he seated himself on the surprisingly sturdy wood. He released Katie, encouraging her to play.

"You went to college?" Elena tried to conceal her surprise with a teasing tone, but by the look on his face, she hadn't succeeded.

"Got my Bachelor's in theater." Elena nodded, absorbing the information. Damon patted her knee and rose to his feet, slowly sneaking up on Katie and tickling her from behind. The two tumbled to the grass in a fit of laughter and limbs. Damon's powerful laughter reminded Elena of her father's, strong and deep and resonating.

After giving them time to themselves, Elena decided to join Damon and Katie in the grass. She slid off her shoes and sprinted to Katie, lifting her high into the air and twirling around, laughing at the way the little girl's curls bounced as she spun. She plopped down into the grass, taking care to be sure that Katie was not hurt in the process. The cool grass glided against Elena's skin as she rolled onto her back, balancing Katie on her stomach. Damon sat beside them, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee propping up his elbow, resting his head in the palm of his hand.

Over the next hour or so, Elena and Katie played Patty Cake; Damon and Katie played tag; and Damon and Elena just enjoyed each other's company under the warmth of the sun as Katie ran about. When it was time for lunch, the trio migrated back to the log bench, Damon and Elena seated next to each other with Katie in between them. They ate their sandwiches slowly and chatted idly, taking small sips out of their water bottles and savoring the juicy crunch of the grapes.

The second the last crumb of Katie's sandwich passed her lips, she raced off toward the pond. "Katie, just be careful! At least four Katie-feet away, remember?" Damon called out. He explained that, to ensure her safety at the pond, Damon had set a rule for Katie that she could stand no closer than the length of four of her shoe sizes to the pond.

Elena, after a few moments of silently gazing toward the tree line across the meadow, murmured, "You're a good father."

Damon, who hadn't expected the compliment, looked quickly at Elena, and then sighed. "I haven't always been." Elena remained silent, allowing the pregnant pause to encourage his continuance. "I met Katie's mother just after college. I'd been adamant on making it big without Dad's help, and had been trying to break into the business on my own for a few months. We met through my friend Ric, who owned a bar in Chicago at the time. He introduced us, and we went on a few dates, but there was always something off about her, something vapid, and we never really hit it off. A few weeks after our third date, I went out to a club, got drunk off my ass, and apparently went back to some chick's apartment. I woke up in the morning with a splitting headache and hickeys all over my body. I didn't even bother to check who the girl was," at this, he grimaced. "I just got dressed as quickly as I could and got the fuck out of there.

"Fast forward almost a year, and I'm 'Hollywood's Hottest Hunk.'" He snorted. "The irony is that I hadn't been with anyone for months. I'd bounced from movie set to movie set, promotional tour to promotional tour, and back. One morning, I'm reading a script for an upcoming film, and my phone rings. The only words I got from Ric were 'baby,' 'Chicago,' and, 'hurry the fuck up.' I flew out there because I thought he was in trouble. Turns out, the club chick with a biting fetish? That was dear old Isobel, and she had popped out a kid. And Ric wasn't the daddy; I was. But I denied it; holy fuck, did I deny it. It didn't make sense to me that I was a father, never mind the shitstorm that my publicist was sure would ensue once word got out that I'd had an illegitimate child.

"So for six months, that woman dragged my ass in, through, and out of court over and over. Finally, my lawyer had requested a paternity test, and when it came back positive, I felt like a fuck up." Elena looked at him inquisitively. "Not because Katie was mine, but because I'd denied it; I'd denied her. And by the time it was confirmed, she was over a year old.

"But that's not even the best part. You see, Isobel, upon finding out that I was the biological father, didn't fight me for child support or anything. No, she went straight up to the judge and asked him when and where she could sign away her rights to 'the kid.'" Elena gasped and her eyes shifted to watch Katie as she ran about the meadow chasing a butterfly, horrified that someone would give up this beautiful little girl. "The bitch terminated any legal rights to her. I came home one day and found Stefan, who was living with me at the time, playing on the floor of my living room with Katie. When I asked what was going on, he said her mother had dropped her off and told him not to contact her.

"Obviously, I was furious that the mother of my child would just leave her baby at a house with someone she'd never met, even if it was my brother, with the request never to be contacted again. I contacted my lawyers and we tried to fight it; I wanted Katie to have a mother. But the law is the law, and technically, the law says that Katie is motherless.

"She's been with me since, and it's been okay for the both of us. We had some troubles at the beginning, but I love that little girl with everything I have, and she knows it. I've managed to keep her out of the tabloids for the most part, even though some news broke when I gained custody of her. It hasn't been easy, but we've managed. Mom and Dad adore her, and Stef helps out when he can."

As Damon finished, Elena felt fury bubble within her. "What a fucking-" She cut herself off, quelling the anger, sure that it wouldn't help Damon any more than his own anger had. "Regardless of what that…_woman_," she bit out, "did, it doesn't change the fact that you're an amazing dad. Sure, you denied that she was yours at first, but who in your line of business wouldn't? I'm sure there are tons of women claiming that Brad Pitt is the father of their children; he'd initially deny the kids, too. That kind of thing is risky for an average person like me, much less someone continually in the spotlight like you. What matters now is that you're being the best parent for her today, and from what I can tell, you are. Believe me, that's all a kid wants, all a kid _needs_."

Damon's crystalline eyes, swelling with emotion, scanned Elena's face, searching for any infinitesimal hint of deceit and coming up empty. Casting his eyes downward, he paused a beat, before clearing his throat and thanking her. She smiled at him reassuringly, satisfying the irrational need to make sure this man was happy. Elena turned back toward the pond, the smile still alight on her face, to watch as Katie sprung from flower patch to flower patch, forming a small bouquet as she went.

"Katie Bug, it's time to go," Damon called a few minutes later. Her head perked up and she came bounding toward the couple.

Skidding to a stop in front of Elena, Katie caught her breath before thrusting the flowers in the woman's face and saying, "'Wena, I gotted you fwowas!"

"Thank you sweetheart!" Elena gushed, pulling Katie into her lap and bringing the flowers to her nose. "They're beautiful!" Katie blushed and hid her face in Elena's neck, prompting a spurt of laughter from her. She patted the little girl's back and lifted her just enough to place her back on her feet, before standing and stretching. Damon followed her lead, and swooped Katie up, spurring a giggle of delight, and lifted her high in the air, touching noses and scrunching his face up to make her laugh again.

Elena smiled at the frivolity and sidled up to Damon, the picnic basket knocking against the side of her thigh. They began walking leisurely back to the edge of the forest, their pace without haste or pressure. As the crunch of the leaves under their shoes signaled their arrival at the tree line, Damon stopped. Carefully, yet with utmost deliberation, he extended his hand to his side, looked down, and touched the tips of his fingers to Elena's ever so gently. Still connected this way, Damon curled his knuckles, bringing their hands together. The pad of his thumb, calloused just enough to send a prickle of pleasure up Elena's arm, trailed across the soft surface of skin gingerly. Each swipe caught Elena's breath in her throat, and her eyes jerked up to his face. His eyes, tender and kind, gazed down at her, and his lips lifted into a humble smile. Elena, in turn, squeezed his hand lightly and raised the corner of her lips in recognition, bumping her shoulder against his arm jovially.

Damon kicked the door to the house closed with the toe of his shoe, refusing to put Katie down or release Elena's hand to shut it. Elena tugged at her hand, laughing as his closed tighter around it in response. "Damon, I have to go put the basket back." She attempted to spin away again, only to be pulled back by Damon's clinging hand. He set Katie down and asked her to go play with her dolls, and turned back to Elena.

She stared up at him in mirth. "What?" she asked playfully. He continued to peer down at her, a smile playing on his lips. Without warning, he twirled Elena toward him. She collided with his chest, her nose meeting his smooth black T-shirt. Vanilla and spice invaded her senses, clouding her thoughts, and she inhaled deeply, purposefully, hearing a low chuckle emanate from Damon's chest. Placing his index finger underneath her chin, Damon tilted Elena's face to meet his.

"I like you, Elena Gilbert," he whispered. A brilliant smile overtook Elena's face and spread to Damon's. The corners of his eyes crinkled in happiness, and something in his orbs sparkled.

Elena glanced down coyly, and then shot her eyes back to his. "And I like you, too, Damon Salvatore. But if you don't let me go in the next five seconds so I can put this damn basket away, I'm going to conveniently not hear my cell phone the next time you call," she wagered. He released her immediately, stepping back dramatically to put at least three feet between them.

"By all means, go and do that _very_ important task so that your ears can function properly the next time I phone you," he goaded, shaking his hands and contorting his face in mock fear.

Elena began backing away, sticking her tongue out, and bumped the side door to the kitchen open with her butt, disappearing behind it. Stepping to the side, she leaned against the wall and sighed, smacking her head against the hard surface. _Elena, slow the fuck down_, a snippy voice barked in her mind. Bating her inhalations and exhalations, she paced to the pantry, deliberately slowing her steps. She dragged in a gulp of air and steadied her heartbeat before reentering the main part of the manor.

Damon and Katie were seated on the rug in front of the fireplace, crouched over a Barbie Dream House, wielding the age-old plastic dolls and speaking in hushed voices. Elena sat on the arm of the couch, her right leg curled under the dangling left one, hands placed in her lap, and watched them interact. She didn't know why Damon doubted his parenting skills; he was a natural. Elena remembered when her own father would sit on her bedroom floor with her for hours as a guest at one of the many tea parties she'd hosted throughout her early childhood. She smiled distantly at the thought.

"Uh Damon." He looked up at her and grinned, tilting his head for her to come to him. "Today has been awesome, but I think I should go home now. My dog hasn't gone out since _hopefully_ sometime today," she explained meekly as she joined them. It appeared as if Damon hadn't even tried to hide his disappointment, but nonetheless, he nodded and stood, dusting his hands against his jeans.

"Katie, we've got to take Elena home now." Katie pouted, but remained silent, just as her father had. "Do you have your things?" he asked, turning to Elena.

"Yeah, I brought them down earlier." She made her way to the door quietly. Katie ambled over to her and grabbed her hand, waiting patiently for her dad to grab the keys.

"'Wena, ah you gon' come back?" the little girl wondered aloud. Elena swung their hands between them, buying time for her to formulate an answer.

"She'll definitely be coming back, baby girl," Damon supplied as if it were obvious, waltzing into the room. Elena scowled at him. Perhaps the only thing he hadn't gotten down about the whole parenting thing was to avoid getting your child's hopes up.

When Damon pulled into a spot in the parking garage, he put the Jag in park, glided the key out of the ignition, and slid out to grab Katie. The awkwardness that never fails to fall upon the close of a first date, prolonged or not, had dawned on them. Neither knew how they should approach their parting. The three took the garage elevator up to her floor, and hesitantly approached her timeworn door.

Katie was the first to say goodbye, hugging Elena's leg and grinning up at her. After she'd nearly crippled Elena by sufficiently cutting off the blood circulation in her left leg, Damon asked the child to go wait by the elevator where he could see her. She obeyed, leaving the two alone in their angst.

"Well, uh, I'll…" Elena gestured to her door, swinging her key at it.

"Yeah, ah…" Damon reached behind his head and scratched his neck uncomfortably.

"So, I'll see you around then?" Elena offered. She didn't want to assume anything, but she also couldn't help the hopeful tone that stained her words.

"Look, Elena, I just…really wanted to thank you. For everything. For giving me a chance last night. For coming with me to the hospital, and back to the house. For breakfast and today. Especially for what you said at the park. It…Let's just say that I really need to hear that."

"Damon, you don't need to thank me. You're raising a wonderful little girl, and, if I may be honest, you're a pretty wonderful person yourself." Damon cracked a smile so genuine and beautiful that it not only lit his face, but also the hallway in her unassuming apartment building.

"Either way, I _do_ need to thank you for one thing."

"And what would that be?" Elena asked mischievously.

"For not complaining once about hearing my voice the way you did at the premiere," Damon teased. Elena rolled her eyes and lightly smacked his chest, then sighed.

"I wasn't lying about the dog. I really _do_ have to let Rocco out. I think Caroline dropped him off today, but there's no guarantee that the carpet in my bedroom isn't soaking up a lake of urine right now," Elena joked. "But you're welcome, Damon. Really, it was no trouble at all. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, winking. "But for now, I've got to get the princess home before bedtime. If I don't, she'll feel the pea I put under her mattress." Elena laughed. "I'll call you sometime this week, okay?" She almost giggled at his unsure question, but nodded her affirmation. He leaned forward, and like the night before, stunned her with his lips. "Goodnight, Little One." His gentle kiss, just above the space between her eyebrows, would star in her dreams for the next three days.

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**A/N: So no paps this chapter, thank god. I didn't really feel like dealing with them, and I'm sure you all didn't, either. **

**I hope you liked this update. Next one should be out soon (fingers crossed). As always, review and suggest!**


	6. Chapter 6: Flashing Lights

**A/N: This chapter was pretty fun to write, so I hope you all have just as much fun reading it!**

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In hindsight, it was probably good that Damon's searing kiss, though innocent as it was, had haunted her dreams for days, because, as she found out two weeks after that night, it would be the last one she'd be getting for the next month. Damon, true to his word, had called later that week, albeit only for a short time, as he was en route to a meeting with the director of his upcoming film. They talked a few more times over the next few days, usually for much longer than the few short minutes they'd spent talking while he was on his way to the meeting. So when Damon called the following Thursday and said he was outside her apartment, Elena was a little more than shocked; the only contact they'd had since the day after their date was via the telephone.

With Rocco in quick pursuit, Elena hurried around the apartment, folding the throw blanket and laying it neatly on the back of the couch, organizing the magazines on the coffee table, before shouting, "Coming!" to buy her time. When she felt that the apartment was tidy enough, she rushed to the door and swung it open, cracking a meek smile. "Hey." Damon, though appearing frazzled, managed to rake his eyes over her body and smirk. Elena, suddenly self-conscious, looked down at her attire. She hadn't bothered to change out of her pajamas after she'd awakened this morning, and was now standing before an A-list Hollywood star that most of her co-workers would kill to breathe the same air as, in lilac- and mint-striped pajama shorts and a mint V-neck. She laughed nervously, smoothing her shorts, and mumbled, "Apparently, I thought it was more important to make my apartment more presentable than myself."

Damon laughed and shook his head, walking forward and into the space. This moment of joviality passed quickly before he looked antsy again, shoving his fingers through his disheveled locks. Rocco began barking, a hilariously tiny bark that only Corgis and other small dogs like him could emit, and, sensing the tension in the air, Elena hastily quieted him. She followed Damon to the couch, sitting beside him and folding her knees up in front of her. Damon tapped his thigh before deciding to wrap his left hand around both of Elena's ankles and pull her legs into his lap. As she felt the pads of his fingers drum into her skin, she found it hard to concentrate, fighting back the urge to bite her lip and allow her eyes to roll back into her head. _Thank fuck I shaved last night_.

"Damon, what's going on?" she finally blurted out, unable to take the anxious silence any longer.

Without looking up from his fingers on her calf, he said monotonously, "I'm leaving."

Elena felt like a cotton field had spontaneously sprouted in her mouth. "What?" she asked quietly, jerking her legs back defensively.

He snatched her ankles back and replaced them in their former position on his lap, clinging to them like a life preserver. "No, no," he looked up frantically. "I'm not leaving forever. But the director told me that she wants to shoot all the international locations in the first month of production, which means I'll be leaving for Bulgaria in exactly," he paused, looking down at his watch, "24 hours."

Elena's jaw went slack. "You're leaving…tomorrow." Her tone was hushed, and even she could barely hear what she said. But he had, and nodded resignedly. "I…What are you even doing here? Where's Katie? And where's she going to stay?" she rushed out.

"Dunno. I guess Stef and I will have to drive her out to Mom and Dad in Virginia," he responded, shrugging.

The words were out of her mouth before she even thought of the consequences: "No, she'll stay here." The finality in her voice left her unable to retract her offer.

"'Lena, no, you're busy, and I don't want to push my three-year old on someone I just met. It would be an inconvenience for you."

"Damon, shut up. I can do it. I have some vacation days that I have to use from work anyway; maybe all three jobs can give me those days off at the same time. I'll take off a week and be able to take her to school, and then after that, I'll drop her off at Care's studio until I'm done with work. You don't need to drive all the way out to your parents'," she retorted, as if it were preposterous.

"Would Caroline be okay with that? I mean, I don't want to put her out."

"That girl is downright smitten with your brother. Any excuse to endear him to her will make her day," she laughed.

"If you're sure…" he trailed off uneasily.

"Katie's a sweetheart. And I have a lot more experience with raising a kid than you'd expect," she said seriously. He looked at her curiously, but didn't ask, only nodded. "It's settled then. Go back to your place, pack a bag for her, and grab her from wherever she is now. Bring her over tonight, and she can play with Rocco while you and I talk."

She swung her legs onto the floor and patted his shoulder. The two walked to the door, and before she opened it, Elena reached up on her tippy toes, pecked Damon's cheek softly, and whispered in his ear, "I'll see you guys soon." Pulling away, she smiled and turned the knob, shooing her small dog out of Damon's way. He grabbed her hand, giving it a quick squeeze, before turning and leaving.

Deciding that the damage was already done, Elena didn't change, and instead shuffled to her conjoined office and guest bedroom—which really consisted of a desk, a desk chair, and a daybed pushed against the far wall—to prepare it for Katie's arrival. She fluffed the pillows and pulled back the sheets, made sure there were no strange objects that Katie could hurt herself on, pushed in the chair, and exited the room.

It was nearing five-thirty, so Elena maneuvered around the kitchen to prepare a quick meal of Fettuccine Alfredo with chicken and peas. Since her twenty-first birthday, she'd gotten into the habit of drinking one glass of red wine a day, and now poured herself a mild amount and sat at the dinette table, awaiting Damon and Katie's arrival.

Rocco's laughable bark forty-five minutes later tipped her off before the knock did. When she opened the door, a 3-foot tall ball of energy rushed her. "Katie, you're going to knock me over!" she giggled, gently placing her hand on the back of the little girl's head.

"'Wena, I stayin' ova heeyuh!"

"You are? Now who told you that?" she asked playfully, eyeing a smiling Damon.

"Daddy!" Katie shouted back.

"Ah, I see," Elena nodded, feigning contemplation. "Well, either way, how about some dinner? I made pasta!" Katie's ears perked up, and she reached for Elena, who grasped her hand and led her toward the kitchen. Elena put her free hand behind her back and waved to Damon conspiratorially to follow them. Rocco, not sensing a threat in the tiny human and her father, padded along behind the group and sat at the foot of Elena's usual chair.

Elena scooped a small amount onto a plate for Katie, grabbing a water bottle out of the refrigerator for her. After serving her, Elena went to work on Damon's plate, dumping a fair heaping of pasta onto his plate before placing it in front of him. She'd eaten before Damon arrived the first time, so she just grabbed a small serving for herself, before offering a glass of wine to Damon.

"Wine sounds perfect," he beamed up at her.

By the time dinner was finished and all the dishes were put up, it was time for Katie to get to bed. Elena perched herself on the couch while Damon said spoke to Katie.

"Okay, baby, do you remember what Daddy told you earlier?" Katie nodded fiercely. "I'm only going to be gone for four weeks, okay?" Elena assumed that putting it in a week perspective rather than a month helped Katie feel like it was a shorter amount of time. "And I'm going to call every day, just like I always do." Katie smiled widely and nodded again. "And you're going to be very good for Elena and Miss Caroline, right?" Katie thrust her pinky finger up and linked it with her father's considerably larger one. "Good girl. Elena is going to show us where your bedroom is."

That was Elena's cue, and she rose from her seat to approach them. "Come on, honey. Your room is right next to mine, so if you need anything, just come right in." She led them down the short hallway, past her bedroom to the next doorway. "And your bathroom is right there," she said, pointing to a door on the wall opposite the guest bedroom.

Katie, having arrived already in her pajamas, pounced on the bed and nuzzled under the sheets as soon as she saw it.

Damon leaned over her, tucking the sheets up to her chin and around her little body, and kissed her forehead. "I love you to the moon, baby girl," he murmured.

Elena, not sure exactly what to do, ran the back of her hand over Katie's cheek and brushed a kiss to it softly, whispering, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

Damon stood at the door, and stepped into the hallway, watching Elena flick the light switch and shut the door quietly.

When they returned to the couch, Damon once again slid Elena's feet into his lap, but this time, she didn't pull away for any reason. He ran his fingers gently up and down her calves, soothing her, and she let her head fall back onto the throw pillow behind her.

"Elena?" he asked, after a few minutes of quiet.

"Mmmmm?" she hummed in response.

He didn't speak for a few seconds, and Elena slid one eye open. "Earlier, when you were talking about having experience raising a kid…" She could hear the question in his hesitance, and laughed.

"Damon, I have not popped a screaming little monster out of my body in this lifetime," she reassured, still chuckling openly.

"What did you mean then?" The question was harmless enough—expected, even. Nonetheless, it still shut Elena up, and made her crawl into herself.

"I…uh…It's not really something I like to talk about a lot," she answered as evenly as possible.

Damon looked down. "I'm sorry. I was just curious."

_Fuck_. "No, don't apologize; it's not your fault. Whenever someone asks about _that_, it's kind of my knee-jerk reaction to just clam up. I promise that I'll explain it to you when I'm ready." She held out her pinky endearingly, mirroring what his daughter had done just minutes before. He smiled, and clasped their fingers together.

They resumed their position—Damon's fingers trailing back and forth across the smooth expanse of her skin, Elena's head rested against the pillow. She allowed another period of silence to fall, reveling in the comfortableness of their position.

"So tell me about this movie you're working on," she suggested. "I mean, I know you can't tell me the gritty details, but just tell me whatever you can. I want to hear you talk." The last sentence slipped out, but she was too blissed out to feel embarrassment.

"It's set half in Bulgaria, obviously, and half in D.C. I've wanted to work with this director for a while. She's got an edge to her that most directors these days don't have. She goes off script, and just goes with what she feels is right, and allows us the freedom to do the same in a scene. She's amazing at what she does, but she's humble, which is also really cool to see in Hollywood. She actually reminds me a lot of you."

Elena's interest piqued at this. "How so?"

"When you first meet her, she comes across as a real witch," he snickered. Eyes still closed, Elena reached forward blindly, feeling for his bicep, before smacking it and returning to her position with a giggle. "But then when you get to know her, she's really down to earth and loving." Elena smiled fondly.

Conversation flowed easily. The two spoke of Damon's role, of where he'd traveled for various shoots, and of whom he'd co-starred with. Elena asked all kinds of questions, and Damon even had some of his own.

"So you write?" he asked, having noticed the journal at the top of the stack on the coffee table. "How did you get started with that?"

"Writing was something my mom had fostered within me from a very young age. She bought me my first journal, and pushed me to write about anything I wanted. I used to make up these stories, and we'd sit on the living room floor with paper and markers, planning characters and settings and plot details. It was a love that she and I both shared, and I've sort of carried the torch since." Damon tapped Elena's ankle, bringing her out of her faraway gaze. He smiled softly at her and traced circles on the top of her foot.

"That's really awesome. I'm sure your mom is proud of you," Damon said encouragingly.

"I think she is," Elena smiled smally.

Half an hour later, Elena stood and stretched. "I'm gonna go shower. You're welcome to turn the TV on," she smiled behind her as she walked toward the hallway. She tried to shower as quickly as she could, not wanting to leave Damon by his lonesome for too long. But when she reentered the living room, she saw his form, lit by the bright glow of the television screen, resting peacefully in sleep.

Approaching slowly, she reached for the throw on the back of the couch, lifting it carefully over his body before wrapping it around his feet and up to his midsection, as far as it would reach. Elena brushed the hair off his forehead and leaned down, pressing her lips tenderly to his forehead, mimicking his actions from nights before. Pulling away, her heart skipped as she noticed that at some point Damon's eyes had opened, and now the oceanic pools, confused but content, were staring up at her.

"Oh shit, I fell asleep?" He moved to get up, but Elena placed her palm on his chest and lowered him back to the couch.

"Sh, Damon, just stay here. You can see Katie in the morning, have a proper breakfast, and still have plenty of time to go home, get your luggage, and make your flight." She smiled, and turned to leave, but was softly pulled back by the wrist.

"Thank you, 'Lena." He smiled up at her lazily, and she couldn't help her returning grin.

"Goodnight, Damon." Padding into her room five minutes later, armed with a glass of water to help her sleep, Elena was greeted by a snoring Rocco at the foot of her bed. She snorted, slid under the covers, and switched off the light on her nightstand.

Roaring claps of thunder and streaks of blazing lightning jarred Elena out of her sleep. Rocco was cuddled into her side, his tiny body shuddering in fear. She jumped as another sheet of lightning surged through the window, and bolted out of the bed and into the living room on instinct. She paused first because she wasn't sure if Damon was still there; upon peering around the corner and seeing the outline of his body on the couch, she wondered if she should bother waking him. _You're acting like a Goddamn baby_, she cursed herself.

She pulled herself together and shuffled up to the couch. Unsure of how to wake someone, she placed her hand on Damon's forearm and applied the tiniest amount of pressure. Following two squeezes and the gentlest of brushes against his forehead, Damon's eyelids peeked open, the whites of his eyes reddened by sleep.

"Elena?" His voice was rough with lethargy, full of worry.

"Hi," she began awkwardly, "sorry to wake you, but it's…uh…storming pretty bad out, and I…" She hated sounding weak, and tried desperately to avoid any situation that might reveal her uncertainty.

Damon stretched his arms over his head, nearly hypnotizing Elena by revealing the patch of skin just above the waistband of his boxers. She assumed that he'd gotten up at some point and removed his pants. She licked her lips to be sure she wasn't salivating, and then averted her attention to a particularly dusty spot on the coffee table. He folded the blanket over and stepped out from underneath its warmth. "Holy fuck, it's cold in here." Elena stepped to the side to allow him room, but he wrapped his arm around her hips and tugged her to him. "'Kay, let's go," he mumbled.

They hobbled to Elena's room, Damon trying valiantly to keep his body close to hers for warmth. She pulled Rocco's bed to her side of the bed, and placed him in it, leaving a pat on his head as she pulled away. Damon crossed to the opposite side of the bed, pulled off his shirt, and straightened the drapes so that the lightning couldn't permeate the room again. Elena was already huddled in bed, watching Damon's toned silhouette glide between the sheets. He slid one arm under the pillow and fluffed it with the other hand, and positioned himself on his side to face Elena. The sheets rustled under her as she turned to him. In the small amount of light provided, she saw his tranquil smile and the tiny creases at the corners of his eyes.

"You know, most guys don't get to sleep with me until well after the fifth date," she teased wryly.

He rolled his eyes and smirked. "Shut up, and get over here," he grumbled, tickling her belly. She giggled and flipped back over, allowing herself to be drawn into his embrace. She burrowed her face into his pillow as his arm tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer to him. Damon's body heat seared Elena's skin pleasantly, and she could feel every plane of his chest through the thin fabric of her tank top. Damn snuck his leg over hers and leaned forward to touch his lips to her hair. For the first time in thirteen years, Elena was completely unaware of the storm raging just outside her window.

Elena woke to an empty bed that smelled of vanilla and spice. Patting the sheets beside her, she took note of their warmth. _He hasn't been up long. _She slipped out of bed and into the bathroom, brushing her teeth quickly so that she could attend to breakfast. But as she entered the living room, the aroma of fresh biscuits greeted her. She skittered to the kitchen, grasping the entryway wall to keep from tripping on the kitchen tile.

The ripples in Damon's back tensed and surged as he kneaded something into the pastry dough. Elena slinked up to him and placed her hands just above his waistline, feeling a tiny tremble run through him at the contact.

"And a good morning to you, Little One," he smirked over his shoulder. She rested her cheek between his shoulder blades and smiled.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked with curiosity, peering around him.

"I'm making cranberry-almond scones. There's a plate of raspberry scones on the counter already." Elena turned to look, and if she hadn't already been salivating at the sight of Damon's body, she was definitely salivating over these breakfast treats. She snatched one up from the plate and bit into it, moaning.

"Jesus Christ, Damon, where did you learn to _make_ these?" she asked in between licking her fingers of the remnants of the scone she'd devoured.

"Mom and I used to cook a lot when I was a kid. I know my way around a kitchen because of her, and everything I know about cooking is from her." As he spoke, he bent over and slid the tray of balled dough into the oven and popped the door closed with his hip.

"Hell, I'd pay her to teach me how to make these," Elena laughed.

"I don't think you'll have to pay her," Damon muttered.

Before Elena could ask, Katie scurried into the kitchen. "Daddy! You're still heeyuh!" She ran to him and latched onto his leg, smiling up at him as he pet her head.

"Come on, Katie, let's get some breakfast in you," Elena suggested, urging the child toward the table. The three began eating the warm biscuits, buttering them generously. When breakfast was finished, Elena took Katie into the bathroom for a washing. Amidst wading around in the water, Katie regaled Elena with stories about talking unicorns and fairies and princesses. They splashed each other in fits of giggles, and played with the pale pink and yellow rubber duckies.

Elena dressed Katie in a flower-printed white cotton dress and her white Keds. She brought the child back into the living room to sit with Damon while she showered herself, dressing in a flowy crimson top and charred salmon shorts with matching sandals.

"Okay, so how are we going to go about dropping you off at the airport?" Elena asked, preoccupied by fiddling with her rose gold watch.

"I don't want you guys getting caught up in the paparazzi," Damon replied, settling Katie in with a toy before walking over to Elena.

"Damon, I don't have a problem with it. I mean, it'll take some getting used to but…" she trailed off uncomfortably, unsure of where to go with that fairly bold sentence. "And besides, I can put a hat on Katie and hold her to shield her from the paps. As for me, a pair of sunglasses and a scarf can go a long way," she winked.

He chuckled, leaned forward, and kissed her forehead. "If you say so. My flight leaves at four, and I have to be there at 3:30. Why don't you drive us back to my place so I can grab my bags, and then we'll head out?"

Elena looked up at him sheepishly. "Um, I don't actually have a car." His expressive reaction hastened Elena's response. "I had to sell it a few months ago to, uh, pay some bills," she blurted.

"Then you'll just take the Jag," Damon finalized.

"I've never driven anything more expensive than my apartment, Damon! And you're going to put me in _that?_" Elena clamored.

Damon snorted and placed his palm on her shoulder, massaging it with his thumb consolingly. "'Lena, it's just a car. The only thing that matters to me is the safety of you two," he soothed, nodding in Katie's direction.

Placated, Elena smiled and assented. "Okay, let's get going then. Hopefully the vultures haven't followed you and set up camp by your car."

As they exited the elevator on the garage level, Elena peeked around the corner to make sure the coast was clear. She motioned with her hand that it was safe, and they made the short trip to the car. She slid her thumb over the face of the key. _Never have I held $80,000 in my hand_, she thought with a smirk. Gliding into the car, Elena started it up, feeling the smooth purr beneath her.

The vehicle traversed the streets like a dream, tinted windows harboring their anonymity. When they arrived at Damon's front gate, he whispered the passcode to her as if it were top-secret CIA information. As the car shifted into park, Elena haphazardly threw the house key to him, insisting that he go ready his bags while she got Katie out of the car. She dusted the girl's dress, straightening it, and lifted her to her hip with ease.

"Let's help Daddy with his things, sweet cheeks."

When they crossed the threshold, Elena's hand flew to her mouth to choke her giggle. "Dear God, Damon, what are you packing for? The apocalypse?" she joked.

"You're just so funny, aren't you?" His eyebrows were raised mockingly, one corner of his mouth lifted in jest.

Elena tapped Katie's back gently and lowered her to the ground, crossing to the mountain of luggage. She pursed her lips and held back a grunt when she lifted the first two pieces. Katie, ever precious as she was, ran to her father's toiletry back and latched onto it, tottering out to the trunk of the car. The two adults grinned at her and followed behind, lifting their spoils into the compartment.

"I think you pack more than I do, and that deserves an Olympic gold medal," Elena heaved after thirty minutes of heavy lifting.

"Hey," Damon defended, "I'm going to be away for a month. A guy's gotta make sure he has everything he needs for beautification!"

Elena rolled her eyes at him and leaned down, buckling Katie into her car seat snugly. She tapped her nose playfully and slid into her own seat, waiting patiently for Damon to lock up the house. She massaged his knee tenderly when he finally plopped into his seat, before pulling out of the driveway.

Elena's fingers nimbly secured the tea rose scarf around her head, tapping the round-lensed sunglasses over her eyes smoothly.

"Very Jackie-O. of you," Damon approved.

Bulbs fired around the car. Elena steadied herself with a breath, and felt Damon's smooth hand slip into hers. She nodded confidently, looked to Damon one last time for reassurance, and clipped open the driver's door.

The bundle of nerves bursting in the pit of Elena's stomach subsided within thirty seconds as she realized that her primary goal was to keep Katie safe and escort Damon to his flight gate; and with this, she picked Katie up and held her soundly against her side, tucking the little girl's face into her neck gently. Stone-faced, Elena turned to the encroaching crowd, squared her shoulders, and aloofly strode through the mass to Damon. He'd already popped the trunk from somewhere inside the vehicle, and had requested that one of the airport escorts load the luggage onto a trolley.

Damon and Elena, still holding Katie tightly, negotiated their way through the mob of fans inside the building. "Leave one herd at the door, and another comes at you in droves," Damon muttered lowly to Elena, inciting a crack of a smile from her. He reached his arm into the crowd sporadically to autograph posters and wave to fans, politely refusing photographic opportunities.

They checked in at the desk and hurried to the VIP waiting area for his airline. Damon and Elena sat on one of the couches in the room, Katie toying with Elena's scarf in between them. Their conversation flowed until three o'clock, when Elena announced that she and Katie were going to the bookstore, and then dinner afterward. Katie jumped up gleefully and began tugging on Elena's arm energetically.

Elena slipped her hand into the girl's much smaller one. "Say goodbye to Daddy," she recommended, and released her. She watched as she ran into a kneeling Damon's arms, which embraced her warmly. He kissed the top of her head, whispered something to her, and sent her back to Elena, who instructed Katie to wait on the couch.

Elena took Damon's outstretched hand in hers and absently trailed her fingers along the back of it. "Well, have a safe flight," she sighed.

He lifted her chin with a finger and smiled. "Take care of my baby."

Elena glanced back at Katie and smiled unconsciously, saying, "You know I will." He nodded gratefully. "So we'll talk to you tonight?" she asked, looking up hopefully.

"I'm going to call when I get off the plane, and then I'll find some time to call tonight." Elena smiled. "Well, when it's night _here_," he corrected.

"Well, we'd better be going." Elena tapped her thighs nervously, waiting for his next move. When his brows furrowing was the only response she received, she turned and began slowly putting distance between them.

"Wait, 'Lena!" Damon's fingers clasped around Elena's wrist and pulled her delicately back to him, bringing their chests together.

"What, Damon? We really have to-"

"You really have to what?" he asked presumptuously, inching his face toward hers.

"I- I have to-" Her babblings were a breathless attempt to conceal her rejection.

"Yes?" he prompted, now nose-to-nose with her. His signature sly grin slithered onto his face temptingly.

She opened her mouth to retort something, a moment seen as opportune in Damon's eyes. His lips dropped to hers in one languid movement, and for a second, all sound to Elena's ears cut, and the only thing she heard was, _Damon Salvatore is fucking __**fantastic**__ with that mouth_.

Pillowy and soft, his lips caressed hers in a slow dance to a tune singular to both Elena and Damon. They slid with ease to her lower counterpart and closed around it, sucking it softly into his mouth and massaging it with the tip of his tongue. Shocks of pleasure tingled from the point of contact straight through to Elena's core, fibrillating her into action. Her zestful response surprised Damon, momentarily leaving his mouth for the taking. Elena's tongue explored it, nibbling on his upper lip before moving down. She pulled away first, grazing her teeth against his lower lip, and opened her eyes. Serenity painted his face beautifully, and Elena was convinced that the small smile that graced it could have rivaled that of the happiest man on Earth.

Her hand lifted and stroked his cheek lightly as she smiled at him. Damon leaned into her palm ever so slightly, the blithe expression still firmly in place. "Not that I'm entirely sure I can walk right now, but Katie and I do really need to get out of here. It's almost 3:30 anyway," Elena nudged.

"Fine, fine," he acquiesced, surrendering his hands. "Katie, come here, honey." The two hugged briefly before he released her to Elena, who stepped forward with Katie's hand in hers.

She stretched on her tippy toes and fisted Damon's soft shirt. Nuzzling her nose against the side of his, she placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Be safe," she murmured, releasing him. She smiled and picked up Katie, before encouraging her to wave and doing the same.

"Oh," she started, near the door now, "and just to establish where we're at in this thing between the two of us, you owe me an official second date when you get back." Damon laughed candidly at her flippant sass, shaking his head.

Elena's assumption that the press would die down after Damon disappeared were, apparently, completely unfounded. After refastening the scarf and sunglasses, and situating Katie so that she was protected, they reentered the main area of the airport to be nearly blinded. Even with the sunglasses, she found it difficult to maneuver a safe path through the throng of bodies and flashing cameras.

To her surprise, Damon's fans were amongst the crowd of reporters, fighting fiercely to get to Elena and Katie. She kept her head down and pressed Katie's into her neck, and kept walking. She'd managed to make it out to the parking garage where the valet had stored the Jag, but was still being trailed by at least twenty people.

Her pace hastened as she neared the vehicle, but a near-tackle from behind caused her to stumble. Fury surged through her veins and she pivoted sharply, her hair whipping the man in the face. Not expecting the abrupt halt, the vultures stopped short. An angry snarl flashed across Elena's lips before she masked it with a saccharine grin.

"Hello, everyone," she spoke, eerily calm. "You all may want to quiet down, because what I'm about to say is _probably_ going to be a _fantastic_ sound bite for you." Her voice was powerful enough for her apparent entourage to hear, and, to her surprise, they obeyed. "Great. Now does everyone see this child I'm holding?" The cameramen nodded. "Does everyone understand how easily I could trip, and how easily this child could be injured?" she questioned again. They nodded their heads affirmatively. "And do you all understand how absolutely _terrifying_ it is for her to be swarmed by at least a dozen shouting people with cameras?" As if dazed, they bowed their heads. "It would appear that any wise person, understanding of this concept, of course, would respect our boundaries. I _am_ aware that you fine gentlemen are just doing your jobs, but perhaps you could do your jobs a few feet away. I hear that investing in a telefoto lens is an astute decision for photographers such as you lot," she suggested. They seemed to mull this over in their minds, apparently never having considered it. Elena allowed them to ponder for a beat, before continuing: "Wonderful! So it seems that we're all on the same page, yes?" Her audience pressed their lips together awkwardly. "Well, I think I've made my point, so I probably ought to be going. Pleasant chatting with you all."

Satisfied with her work, she turned, unlocked the car, popped Katie into her car seat, and slid into her own. She locked the doors securely and checked that her seatbelt was fixed safely, before backing out slowly. As Elena drove past the still-stunned paparazzi, she lifted her left hand off the steering wheel, raised it to the window, and waved it charmingly. And with that, she gunned it the fuck out of there.

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**A/N: My favorite paragraph, by far, is the part where Elena gets sassy on the paps. What's your favorite part? Tell me in a review!**


	7. Chapter 7: Nanny or Mistress?

**A/N: Quick update, so it's really short, but enjoy!**

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Elena jumped a little when the inside of the car started ringing. She'd picked up her phone from the passenger seat, dialed Caroline's number, and pressed the device to her ear. When the screen of the car's dashboard lit up and emitted a loud ring, she panicked for a second, scared that she'd already broken the car. The words _Calling: Caroline_ flashed across the screen, and she connected the dots. At some point, Damon had programmed the car to connect to her phone. She smiled.

"Hello?" Caroline's voice rang out through closed space.

"Hey, Care. Do you want to meet us at Daisy's for dinner?"

"Us?" Caroline queried, confused.

"Yeah, Katie and me. We just left the airport," Elena clarified.

"Well, I'm about to leave the airport right now."

Elena smirked. "Dropping your little boyfriend off, are you?" she teased.

"You're one to talk!" Caroline laughed back. "Yeah, I'll head to the diner as soon as I leave."

"Katie, do you want to talk to Uncle Stefan?" Elena asked the child in the back seat. She looked at her through the rearview mirror, and saw her little head bob vigorously. "Care, can you put Stef on the phone?" She heard a rustling as the phone passed from one person to the next.

"Elena?"

"Unca Stefan!" Katie screamed out in delight.

Elena laughed at her exuberance. "Hey, Stefan. Katie and I are in the car, and she wants to say goodbye to you." She looked up at Katie in the mirror and said, "Go ahead, sweetie."

"Unca Stefan! How ah you?"

"I'm good, Cookie. I hear you, Elena, and Miss Caroline are going out to dinner?" Stefan asked.

"Yeah! We goin' to 'Wena's work!" She bounced in her car seat.

"That sounds fun! Listen, Cookie, I have to go get on my plane now, okay? But I'll talk to you real soon, I promise," he said sweetly.

"Okay! Bye, love you!"

After he replied, the phone was returned to Caroline, and she and Elena agreed to meet at Daisy's in twenty minutes. The call ended, and Elena turned up the radio, dancing along with Katie to the beat of the music.

The two girls arrived at the diner right on time, and managed to slip in easily. The paparazzi had trailed her, but kept their distance just as she had asked, not even entering the eatery.

"Hi, 'Lena!" Elena's co-worker, Vicki, greeted in her southern accent. "And who is this pretty little lady?" She crouched down to tweak Katie's nose, evoking a smile out of the child.

"I'm Katie!"

Vicki looked up at Elena questioningly. "Katie is my…friend's daughter," Elena explained, pausing briefly to contemplate Damon's role in her life. "I'm watching her while he's away on business."

Vicki nodded and seated them at a booth in the back of the diner. Elena propped Katie next to her in the seat, and shared the menu with her. They'd decided on a cheeseburger for Elena and a grilled cheese for Katie, when the sound of clicking heels neared them. Elena looked up and saw her best friend, clad in a sunny billowy shirt and white jeans, approaching them with a wide grin on her face.

"Hey, hey!" Caroline said, sliding into the seat across from Elena and Katie.

"Hi, Caro!" Katie shrieked. Caroline spoke to the little girl for a few minutes while perusing the menu. Vicki popped back over to the table to take the group's orders, leaving them with three glasses of water and a small cup of lemon wedges. Elena pulled a pad and pen from her purse and handed it to Katie, asking her to draw her a picture for her refrigerator.

While the child was drawing, Elena caught up with Caroline. "So, you and Stefan?" she prodded.

"So, you and Damon?" her friend quipped. Elena scowled. "Fine, fine. We've gone on a few dates, and I really like him. He's smart, driven, and so, so sweet. He's so different from what I usually go for. I think that makes him more interesting." Elena smiled, happy for her friend. "And I haven't even slept with him yet!"

"Christ, Caroline, do you not see the small, _very_ impressionable child sitting next to me?" Elena asked, alarmed.

"Oh, she doesn't even know what we're talking about," Caroline said dismissively, waving her friend off. She proceeded to fill Elena in on the dates she'd gone on with Stefan, and then informed her of the advancements her company had made, prattling on about how her sales had reached an all time high, thanks to Damon. "Speaking of a certain blue-eyed hunk of glory…" she trailed off, hinting at her curiosity.

"I already told you about the date, and everything that happened afterward. I had to spend the night, and then we went to a park the next day. And last night, Damon brought Katie over and fell asleep on the couch, and when that storm hit, I woke him up and-" She cut herself off, biting her lip.

"And what?" Caroline pushed.

"Well, I woke him up, and he kind of came back to my room with me and held me so I went back to sleep?" she finished, ending the sentence almost as if it were a question.

"Elena!" Caroline giggled. "You're starting to sound like me!"

"We haven't…you know…yet. But shit, if he isn't testing the waters." Elena huffed in frustration. She peeked over at Katie to make sure she was distracted, and continued, "He's not the asshole that I thought he was, which makes it really difficult for me to fight the attraction. Whenever he touches me, it's like-" Instead of finishing her sentence, she smacked her forehead into her palm. Caroline laughed, and reassured Elena that what she was experiencing was normal.

"Yeah, Care, but the waters he's testing are _very_ wet." As soon as the words slipped out, Elena and her friend burst into hysterics. Elena snorted and hid her face in her palms, and Caroline covered her mouth with her hand to quiet her laughter, her eyes widening in mirth.

Vicki arrived with their meals moments later, and after popping a fry into her mouth, Elena regaled Caroline with the tale of what happened at the airport.

"He kissed you?" she screeched, excitement rolling off of her in waves.

"Mhm," Elena confirmed, "and when Katie and I left the VIP waiting room, this huge crowd of people followed us back to the car. One of them almost knocked me over while I was carrying Katie, which scared the shit out of me, so I told them off."

"What do you mean you 'told them off?'" Caroline asked skeptically.

"I kindly informed them of the risks of stalking a woman carrying a child, and requested that they take their photographs from afar," Elena replied nonchalantly.

"Elena." Caroline's flabbergasted tone grabbed her attention. She looked up at her best friend's stunned face. "Are you _trying_ to get yourself grilled by every publication out there?"

Elena shrugged and rolled her eyes. "I honestly doubt they're going to care that much about some girl no one has ever heard of." Caroline raised her eyebrow, but said nothing, and changed the subject.

After they split the check, Caroline and Elena lingered at the table for a few moments to finish up the conversation. "I told Damon that I'd take a week off, and then for the rest of the month, I'd just drop Katie off at your studio until I got off of work. That's okay with you, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's no problem. Sasha and I have to finish up some designs, and she usually brings her daughter, Mia, in, so she and Katie can play while we work."

"Sounds like a plan. Anyway, I have to get this little one home and in bed, but thanks for meeting us for dinner. I'll call you later in the week to arrange something." Elena smiled and hugged her friend warmly, and then watched as Katie mirrored her actions. "We'll go out separately so they don't attack," she laughed.

Elena and Katie went out first, and this time, only a few camera-wielding men approached her. She didn't acknowledge them, instead heading straight to the car.

By the time Elena pulled into the parking space of her apartment building, Katie was already asleep. As quietly and gently as she could, Elena tucked Katie into her arms and slid into the elevator. Unlocking the door as noiselessly as possible, she balanced Katie on her hip and nudged the door open. She tossed the keys into the small bowl by the door and padded to Katie's room, nestling the little body in between the sheets. Elena stood at the doorway for a few moments, watching over Katie as she breathed in and out peacefully. She sighed and turned out the light, turning away from the room and down the hallway to the kitchen.

"Rocco," she whispered. The Corgi waddled into the kitchen and panted happily, knowing what was coming. Elena bent over and scooped a cup of dog food from the bag. She placed the bowl beside the fridge, scratched the pup's head lovingly, and shuffled into the living room, switching on the TV and lowering the volume.

The pealing sound of the electronic xylophone ringtone jolted Elena upright. "Jesus fuck, that's loud," she groaned. She sifted through her bag to find her phone, coming up empty. She missed the call after a few failed attempts at finding the phone. "God damn it," she cursed. The sound rang out again, and this time, she picked up the bag and dumped its contents on the floor, too frustrated to care. Now able to see the flashing screen, she snatched up the phone, slid to answer, and held it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Elena? Did I wake you?"

"Oh! Damon! Hi, uh, yeah, I was sleeping, but it's fine. If you're calling for Katie, she's already asleep, but I can wake her up for a few minutes if you want," Elena offered stutteringly.

"No, no, don't do that. I'll just call for her tomorrow. How are you? You guys made it out okay, right?" Elena smiled at his concerned tone.

"We got out fine. A little trouble with the paps, but I…handled it," she said, strategically wording it to not make a big deal out of things. "Caroline, Katie, and I went out to eat, and when we got home, I tucked Katie in. I guess I fell asleep on the couch or something." She glanced at her surroundings, noting the brown fabric of the sofa beneath her.

"That's good, that's good."

"So where are you now?" she asked eagerly.

"Right now, a hotel in Rome. My next flight is tomorrow at 2:50, but that one goes straight to Bulgaria, thank God. Eight hours on a plane does not do my legs well," he complained. She could hear the grimace in his voice.

"Aw, you poor baby. You can't even enjoy Rome because your little baby legs are all sore," she teased, throwing in a pout.

"I really can't ever enjoy a destination that involves work, because I'm either too tired, or too busy."

"Hmmm," Elena hummed, "Well, maybe one day." She stood and stretched, keeping the phone to her ear, and made her way to the bathroom. "Hold up, I'm gonna brush my teeth." She set the phone on the counter and put it on speakerphone, proceeding to prepare herself for bed. While she washed her face, Damon told her about the old woman who had sat next to him on the plane ride to Rome. The woman, he said, told him that she was going to Rome for her son's wedding.

"Here's this 78-year old woman, full of life and everything, on an 8-hour plane ride to Rome for her kid's wedding. How badass is that?" Elena laughed at his vigor. "And then she told me how she and her husband met. Lilian—that's her name—was engaged to be married to another man in the States, but had volunteered to be a nurse in the army during the Vietnam War. Amidst all the chaos, she met this Lieutenant Colonel, Jim, who'd been injured in battle. She explained that one of his men had gone down, and after he got everyone else to safety, he'd gone back to get the soldier. He suffered seven shots to the side, but managed to get every single one of his men back to camp. She operated on him, and they got to know each other, and fell in love.

But sometime during the war, his battalion, including the Jim, was sent back to the U.S. When Lilian came back home after five years of service, not knowing where Jim was, she married the man she was engaged to, and had two sons with him. Ten years later, her husband died of a heart attack. She took her sons to the park one day, and while they were playing, she was looking around at the other parents. One of the fathers had this scar running down his right cheek. She remembered asking Jim once about a scar on his face, and as she squinted to get a better look, she recognized him. She ran up to him, introduced herself, and they got to talking again. She learned that he had a daughter whose mother had divorced him when she was fairly young. And now, years later, here Lilian is, telling me that their fortieth anniversary just passed."

Elena stood there in silence, slack-jawed and mid face scrub. "That's…incredible," she breathed. "It's so weird how you meet the person you're going to marry," she said offhandedly.

"Yeah, it is," Damon agreed quietly. "What are you doing?"

"Getting into bed. I'm debating whether I should read, or just sleep, because the chances of me falling asleep anyway and dropping the book on my face are pretty high at this point." She heard Damon's chuckle, and laughed lowly.

"Just go to sleep, Little One."

"But-"

"Hmm?"

"I don't…want to get off the phone with you," Elena spoke meekly.

"I'm here, 'Lena, just go to sleep," he murmured. Elena set the book back down on her nightstand and rubbed her eyes. Turning to the left, she picked up the pillow Damon had used the night before and snuggled into it.

"G'night, Damon," she mumbled, already half-asleep.

"Sweet dreams, Little One."

"'Wena, can we go to da zoo?" Katie's precious voice popped up from behind the couch. Elena reached back from her spot and stroked the little girl's hair.

"Sure we can, sweetie. Why don't you go get dressed, and I'll call Caroline to see if she wants to come, okay?" Katie nodded and ran to her room.

In the meantime, Elena dialed her friend's number. It had been three and a half weeks since Damon left. He'd updated her on shooting last night; if all continued going as it had been, he'd be home by the end of the week. Katie, to Elena's surprise, was actually doing well without her father, though she guessed that the child was used to him being gone for periods of time.

Elena arranged for the two of them to meet up with Caroline at Central Park Zoo in an hour, giving just enough time for her to take a shower and find a baseball cap. When Katie came bouncing out of her room in pink shorts and a white T-shirt, her little knobby knees knocking together, Elena smiled.

"Now how am I going to compete with how adorable you are?" she asked, tweaking Katie's nose. "I put on a show for you to watch while I shower. I'll be right back." She kissed the top of the girl's head and walked to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she dressed in a pair of jeans and a light pink v-neck, and then rifled around under her bead to find the box of hats. She pilfered through the collection and plucked out a white ball cap, tugging it on and pulling her ponytail through the hole in the back.

"Okay, Katie Bug, ready to go?" she asked as she entered the living room.

"Can we take Rocco?" Katie asked excitedly, petting the dog on the couch.

"No, sweetheart, Rocco has to stay home." Katie pouted, but rose from the couch and came to Elena's side. She grabbed Elena's hand, and looked up at her.

"Okay, then I'm ready to go," she said, cheery again.

The Jag sidled up to Caroline's VW Beetle smoothly, and the two ran up to Elena's blonde friend by the entrance.

"Hi, guys! Are you ready to see the lions, tigers, and bears?" Caroline chirped. She and Elena sandwiched Katie between them, and they strolled into the zoo.

Elena loved seeing Katie's face light up at the leopards and sea lions and parrots. She picked up Katie so that she could see the polar bears, and watched as her tiny hand stretched out to touch the cool glass, as if she could just feel the bear's fur through the barrier.

Elena prayed that her sunglasses and baseball cap were enough to conceal her identity from the dozen men and women trailing her with their cameras. She, Caroline, and Katie stopped at one of the hot dog stands and picked up some food and sodas. They moved to the side and sat on a bench, stuffing their faces. The paparazzi swarmed, snapping photos of Elena taking a bite out of her hotdog, of Katie nibbling on hers, of Caroline sipping from her soda cup. Elena shielded Katie's eyes from the flashes, but continued as normal.

When the girls stood and tossed their trash, the cameras surged closer, forcing Elena to carry Katie. Caroline took the head, carving a path and leading Elena through the crowd. They exited the zoo with an entourage of twenty people, and rushed to their cars, parting with a quick kiss to the cheek. Elena buckled Katie into her seat in record time, and zipped out of the parking lot.

"God, why can't we just have one fu-" Elena looked into the rearview mirror and cut herself off. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. When we get home, we'll make ice cream sundaes and watch movies until bedtime, deal?"

"Deal!" Katie squealed from the backseat.

That night, Elena prepared two huge ice cream sundaes after dinner, topping them off with cherries and peanuts and caramel and chocolate and rainbow sprinkles and whipped cream. She and Katie curled up on the couch and watched Disney movies until 7:30, when she tucked the sleepy little girl into bed. Leaving a kiss to her forehead, Elena closed Katie's door and jumped back onto the couch.

She picked up the remote and stopped the DVD, returning to normal channels. Images of cherry pie on the Food Network and MythBusters on the Discovery Channel flashed by, and she laughed at the snippet of some comedian on Comedy Central. She continued flipping through the channels, until one image caught her eye.

A girl, probably close to her age, was walking through a parking garage with a small child, being hounded by cameramen. The scene cut to another image of the same girl with the same child, walking on a sidewalk crowded with people.

"We welcome you back to Entertainment TV with these just-in shots. Our sources identify Damon Salvatore's daughter, but are unable to recognize the woman carrying her. Witnesses reveal that the woman went on a tirade against the paparazzi at the local airport today, shouting profanities and flinging her handbag. Is this mystery girl Salvatore's nanny, or his mistress? We report in ten," the newscaster spoke.

_Holy fuck_.

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**A/N: Like I said, it was really short. I'll willingly admit that this is a filler chapter, because I'm really excited to get Damon and Elena back together, and see what I can do with their characters.**

****Very important! I'd like to open up a sort of submission thing-like if you have fanart or something that I could use as the cover photo for the story, submit it! Email it in JPG form to jaynebrown21 (not my real name, by the way), and I'll choose one!**

**Also, I'd like some input on what you'd like to see in the next chapter. Any specific events? Any quotes you all want integrated into the story somehow? Let me know in the reviews!**


	8. Chapter 8: Just Be

**A/N: Okay, so the playlist for this, in order, is:**

**Sail-AWOLNATION**

**Eyes on Fire-Blue Foundation**

**Never Let Me Go-Florence + the Machine**

**Belong-Cary Brothers**

**Kiss Me-Ed Sheeran**

**Love Me Tender-Norah Jones/Adam Levy version**

**Enjoy!**

**P.S. You'll know when to start listening to the songs.**

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Elena scrambled for her cell phone, fighting back tears. "Fuck, where's the fucking phone?" she muttered harshly. Her breaths were coming in short bursts, and she could barely see. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god, fuck." Her hand shook as she dialed Damon's number. The phone rose to her ear, and she gnawed on her lip voraciously.

"Hey, Little One," he drawled, a smile in his voice.

"D- Damon? Fuck, I can't-" She thrust her hand into the crown of her head, fisting her hair in large clumps. "Damon, I…I just turned on the news, and I…" She was pacing now, and taking deep breaths. "They're talking about me! They're calling me a…a mistress. And they're saying I did all these horrible things! That I cursed at the paparazzi and…and hit them with my purse. I didn't- that's not what happened! And then-" She sobbed, heaving large gulps of air.

"Christ, baby, calm down. Just…hold on, calm down. Breathe, okay? What happened?"

"The paps at the airport. They got too close, and one of them almost ran into me-"

"Those fuckers," Damon growled.

"And I- I said that they could have hurt Katie, and that they were…that they were scaring her. Fuck! I bet my whole 'tirade' is on YouTube! But I didn't hit them! And I didn't curse! I didn't- I didn't-"

"Sh, sweetheart, it's okay. I know, it's a lot to take in," he soothed.

"Damon, they're lying! They're-" Three rapid knocks sounded at the door. "Ah, fuck! Who the fuck is at my door? Like I need _another_ thing to deal wi-" Elena's words stopped short as she swung the door open and saw Stefan standing there. "Stefan? What? Aren't you- Wait, if you're here, then-" She pushed past him and into the hall frenziedly.

In the middle of the dimly lit hallway, soft rays of light defined Damon's figure. Strings of hair fell onto his forehead, pushed up gently by his raised eyebrows, his worry lines pronounced by concern. He walked toward her carefully, not as if she were a caged animal, but as if he was afraid that if he touched her, she'd break. "I'm here, baby. It's okay." When his hand reached her face, the last of her resolve crumbled. He held her head to his chest as she cried, whispering, "'Sh, sweetheart, sh, I'm here, I've got you."

Supporting most of her weight, Damon moved into the apartment and to the couch. "Elena, I'm going to have Stefan take Katie home, okay?" She nodded, and furiously swiped the back of her hand across her cheeks. "Go grab her, Stef." His brother nodded and began his search for Katie's bedroom. Damon stroked Elena's hair and kissed her head over and over.

Stefan returned with a sleepy-eyed Katie. "Daddy, you're home!" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes adorably. Stefan neared the couple on the couch, and leaned down so Damon could kiss his daughter. Katie looked over at Elena with a crease between her brows, and reached her hand out. "'Wena, ah you okay?"

Elena sniffled and pulled herself together, taking Katie's hand in her own. "Yeah, baby girl, I'm okay. You go home with Uncle Stefan, and I'll make sure that Daddy comes right to you tomorrow." Katie looked at her father warily, nodded, and fell back asleep.

Damon looked to his brother, silently thanking him.

"I'll see you later, Elena," Stefan said, eyeing her empathetically. She waved smally, and watched as he exited with Katie.

When the door clicked into place, Elena burrowed her face in Damon's neck. He leaned back on the couch to pull her on top of him, stroking her back as she cried into his skin. Gradually, her breathing evened out and normalized, but she curled further into his body. "I know you said it would be hard," she started, her lips speaking against his neck. "But they're calling me your mistress. It's like I'm some…some…call girl!" She shuddered, and his grip tightened around her.

"I know, 'Lena, I know. This life that I have…it's not something I want for you. You don't deserve to be stalked by people who make a living off of privacy invasion. You don't deserve to be picked apart by every entertainment show and magazine. You don't deserve any of that." He spoke in hushed whispers, slowly stroking her cheek with his thumb. "It's a constant struggle, and I understand if you don't-"

Elena steeled in his embrace, and shoved herself up so that she was straddling him. "No." He looked up at her in confusion, and she placed her hands on his chest, steadying herself. "I may not like being called a mistress, and I may not be particularly fond of being followed by a slew of strangers, but I do like _you_, and I like your daughter. So whatever these people say, I'm sticking to…_this_," she finished, gesturing between their chests.

"'Lena…"

"You know something funny?" she asked thoughtfully. "At the airport, when that guy ran into me? I felt so much anger, so much _disgust_, toward those people. But it wasn't because they were taking pictures of me with barely any makeup on, or shouting random words at me that blended together. It was because I almost _fell_, and Katie would have gotten hurt. That pissed me off more than you know. It took so much energy to refrain from cursing at them, kicking them, whatever—but I held it in. I needed to be calm—not for them, but for her. I needed to be calm for her," Elena repeated.

In a breath's time, Damon's hand brought her head down to meet his, his lips crashing into hers with a force that knocked the wind from their lungs. His hands slid around to the back of her neck, arching it and opening her mouth to him. Elena responded fervently, nipping his lower lip before running her tongue across the spot she bit. Her hand flew to the side of his neck, where it stroked its way down to his shoulder.

The couch protested underneath Damon as he shifted into a seated position, Elena now sitting up on her knees. His lips trailed sensuously from hers to her chin, down to the slender column of her neck. They wandered to and fro, his tongue peeking out, alternating between swirls of tight and languid circles. Her head tilted back, her hips instinctually thrusting into his. He groaned and quickened his pace, digging circles into her hips with his thumbs.

Elena's hand drifted up to fist his hair, pulling his head back. Her mouth opened in a gasp, and she slid her mouth over his again, dominating the kiss, tugging his lower lip between her teeth and drawing it out gently. Damon ground himself into Elena, creasing his brows and eliciting a mewl from her parted lips. His mouth traced scorching patterns down her neck to her chest, bloodshot patches left on the ridges of her collarbones.

Teeth sucked skin, hot breath warming Elena's body as Damon trailed open-mouthed kisses down to her chest. Sweeping the tip of his tongue slowly, he laved the skin around the collar of Elena's T-shirt. His hands skimmed down her sides and pushed the fabric up inch by inch, savoring each new part of her revealed. In sensory overload and unable to handle the sudden change in pace, Elena's hands covered Damon's and guided them up, pulling the shirt with them.

The scrap was soon discarded, and Damon's hands moved to cup Elena's ass, dragging her closer still. In one fluid movement, he hooked her legs around his waist and stood, grabbing at the flesh in his hands while holding her to him. Elena's movements halted for a split second to adjust to the new position, but instantly resumed in a flurry. Her hands stroked down his neck and across his shoulders, sweeping to trace the muscles of his arms. Damon readjusted her body, and the bouncing motion intensified the ball of heat tumbling low in her stomach.

Small hands flitted across Damon's back, kneading the muscles rippling across the surface like waves. She sucked in a breath when her back hit the wall, stretching her neck upward. Beneath her, Damon fumbled for the doorknob to her bedroom, and upon hearing the satisfying click, kicked it open with a force that should have knocked it off its hinges. Elena lunged her upper body forward and crashed her lips to Damon's neck.

Clutching Elena by the waist now, Damon waltzed into the room and tossed her on the bed, a chuckle rumbling low in his chest. Elena lifted onto her knees and gripped his shirt, lifting it slightly so that Damon would raise his arms. She tore the shirt off of him gracelessly, skimming her hands across the toned planes of his chest, and directed her attention to his pants, unclasping the button and shoving them forcefully down his legs. He stepped out of them and nudged her back onto the pillows. His limbs stretched out predatorily, caging her under him. He pressed himself to her body, their forms molding to fit one another seamlessly. Inky locks tickled Elena's jaw line as Damon dove fluidly for her neck, laving the skin there. His hand, hesitant and shy, moved to fondle her left breast through the crisp cotton bra. The touch sent shivers through Elena's spine, and she arched against him, creating just enough space between her back and the mattress for Damon to unclasp the barrier and toss it aside, exposing her to him.

Damon pulled away and slid his hands down, running them between her breasts, the tips of his pinky fingers skimming the inside swells gingerly, and across her soft belly, stopping at the button of her jeans. Elena pouted and circled her hips impatiently, a smiling Damon now idly tracing patterns on her cotton-covered mound. He looked up at her devilishly, a new glint in his eyes. Holding her gaze, he bent his lips to the patch of skin just above her panty line and tasted her skin, sending ripples of pleasure through her stomach.

One hand clutched the sheet, while the other ventured into Damon's hair, holding him in place. His own crawled from her hip to the lot of skin on her inner thigh, lightly tickling, teasing. A finger reached over and pushed the cloth covering her to the side, dipping into her entrance and twisting upward and into a curl. The muscles of her inner walls tensed around him, and she threw her head back at the contact.

His index finger pumped in and out, tortuously slow, stroking the silken walls gently, before he entered another finger.

"Damon," she moaned, her head turned to the side, eyes shut tightly.

"Sh," he appeased. Pulling out of her, Damon hooked his fingers in her panties and slid them down deliberately. Beginning at her ankles, he trailed the backs of his fingers up, caressing her calves, her knees, her thighs, until he reached the core of her body. Parting her lower lips, he massaged the skin around her opening, bringing his tongue to her clit. He moved slowly, leisurely, at first, and then alternated in pace, flicking one moment, and sucking the nub between his lips the next.

Elena inhaled sharply, a squeak tumbling from her lips as her hips bucked into his face. His free hand rubbed her side, holding her down gently as he pleasured her. Damon's tongue worked her into a high build, teasing and stroking and drumming her body. The coil deep in her belly tightened, and just as her stomach muscles clenched, Damon pressed down firmly. Each nerve ending in Elena's body ignited, her legs vibrating wildly, back bowing and mouth falling open. Damon eyed Elena hungrily as he continued to love her with his tongue as she rode out her orgasm, the anchor to her crushing waves of pleasure.

The strength of his muscles pressed against Elena as Damon slithered up to press his lips to hers. Their kiss was not rushed, and neither were their touches. Jagged breaths sliced the thick air between them. Goosebumps puckered Damon's skin as Elena stroked his bicep, tracing where his muscles crested and fell. Her fingers snuck down to his waist and snapped the band of his boxer briefs with a smirk, eliciting a snarl. Her big toe slipped beneath the band and tugged, freeing him.

"Whoops," she teased coyly, dropping her jaw dramatically. She peered up at him through her lashes innocently, and he bounced his forehead against hers lightly. In a single movement, Elena hooked her legs around his hips and, channeling every ounce of strength, tumbled over so she was perched on top of him. His chest was stony as she smoothed her hands across the tight skin, feeling his abdominals tense and flutter under her fingertips. He moaned faintly and reached for her.

"Ah, ah, ah," she tutted. Her supple thighs moved along his powerful ones as she scooted back and leaned forward, propping her ass in the air. She ran her finger along the length of his shaft thoughtfully. "See, unlike you, I don't tease. I get right into the _thick_," she enunciated, squeezing the base, "of things."

With a lopsided grin, Elena bent down, her hair falling around her in tresses, and brought him into her mouth. Her hand compensated for what she could not take in, and fondled his balls. Her tongue swirled around his tip; her lips bloomed to fit the head. A flush sprouted in Damon's cheeks and traveled down his body, a thin sheen of sweat glistening around his hairline. He reached down and swept her hair over one shoulder, grunting.

Releasing his cock with a pop, Elena tongued his shaft, trailing little kisses along the way, before sucking him back in. Her hands grazed his thighs, kneading the muscle as she reveled in the power she felt. Growing more eager, she sped up, tugging and tasting simultaneously. Damon's hand fisted in her hair and pulled gently. She glanced up, still suckling, and watched as his face screwed up. Her only thought in that moment, his lips parted and hands balled in the sheets, was, _My god, he's beautiful_. With a moan, Damon came, streams of his heat pouring down Elena's throat. She rubbed his tummy as he slowed, licking the remnants of his orgasm from him. With one final kiss to the tip, Elena allowed herself to be pulled up, slinking herself against his cock teasingly in the process.

Face to face with her, Damon nuzzled his nose against Elena's and smiled serenely, cupping her cheek. He rolled her onto her back, splaying his hands across her ribs and drawing her nipple into his mouth. Elena relished the adoring way he clung to her, running her thumb down his cheek lovingly. His mouth shifted to capture her other breast, allowing his finger to roam between her legs. After pumping twice, he raised his finger to her clit and circled it once.

He left a kiss to her lips and reached for his pants. Elena watched as he withdrew his wallet from the back pocket, flipped it open, and pulled out an aluminum wrapper. Closing her fingers around his and holding his face with her free hand, she whispered, "We're covered," and pried the packet out of his grip, tossing it somewhere in the corner. "But you get an A+ for preparedness," she winked.

Damon beheld her for a moment before leaning down and trapping her lips between his. He pulled back just enough to touch noses and brush his hand to her face, and gazed down at her with overwhelming tenderness. "You're sure?" he murmured. She bit her lip and nodded, half a smile quirking up. Damon's returning smile was brilliant, the little light in the room glinting off of his teeth and lighting his eyes. She pecked his lips and leaned into his warm palm, kissing it gently.

Reaching between their bodies, Damon positioned himself at her entrance. He looked up at her, asking again without words, and she urged him forward, smiling tenderly. He slid his hands up her sides and to her breasts, pushing himself into her at the same time, and she gasped, groping for his back, clinging and clawing. The new sensation clouded her thoughts and vision and every other sense, and her fingers pressed into Damon's sides roughly as he pulled out and thrust back in.

His face leveled with Elena's, and he flattened his forehead against hers, their noses mashing against each other in a frenzy of passion and sweat. Mouths crashed in a flurry as he quickened and then slowed his pace, alternating between short and fast, and long and slow. Skin slapped in the age-old dance that both bodies instinctually knew, and Damon reached for Elena's hands, clasping them and pinning their joined hands above her on the mattress.

Elena hissed as his teeth scraped along the column of her neck, lifting her hips to clash and mold with his. She pulled one hand free, yanked Damon's head to hers, and crushed her lips to his, fighting to release the emotions raging inside of her.

"Damon, please," she moaned, her fingers twined in his hair. He plunged in again, his response deliciously primal, and a snarl rolled in his chest. He nudged his face into her neck, and, just as he dove into her one more time, slipped his hand between their slick bodies and circled her clit rapidly, murmuring her name over and over like a prayer.

That was all it took for Elena to topple over the edge, panting his name, her speech peppered with profanities.

"Fuck," Damon gritted out, taken by her inner muscles pulsing around him. His hips stirred forward infinitesimally, and with an emphatic moan of her name, he came, matching their foreheads and closing his lips around hers.

The two caught their breath in a heap of limbs. Damon shifted to relieve Elena of his weight, only to be tugged back onto her body. "Not yet," she mumbled, kissing every inch of available skin. He smiled, tapped her nose with his, and tilted off of her just a little, wanting to keep her from suffocating. She groaned in protest, and rolled him onto his back, sprawling herself across him.

Elena sighed in contentment, swaying gently with Damon's slow inhalations and exhalations, and purred as his fingers swept across her back in aimless patterns. Her arms, crossed in front of her against his chest, supported her chin as she smiled up at Damon, basking in the glow of his grin.

Folding his legs in to support her, Damon reached down and clutched the comforter, pulling it up and over them like a cocoon. She giggled, turning onto her side and dragging him with her. They faced each other now, Elena's smaller body curled into Damon's, their skin alight with a dull sizzle in any place they touched one another. Elena whispered an exhale and tucked her head under his chin. His hand rose to run through her hair.

"Elena," he hummed after a period of comfortable silence, "I think…I think I might be-"

Elena brought her finger to his lips and stared up at him, understanding in her eyes. "I know, baby," she smiled, "me too. But not now; right now, let's just _be_." And they were.

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**A/N: Phew! That was my first attempt at anything lemony. I really hope you guys enjoyed it. The next update may take a little longer, mainly because this one took a lot out of me!**

**But let me know what you think in the reviews! And include any suggestions/requests for next chapter!**

**And also, don't forget to submit a drawing for the cover contest to jaynebrown21 !**


	9. Chapter 9: Love Potion 31

**A/N: Golly, guys, it's been a while. I'm sorry for the week and a half or so wait-I told ya'll that it may take some time, since chapter 8 took a bit out of me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! A bit of fluff, but it's got some substance to it.**

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Hot. Everything around Elena felt hot. She stirred and groaned sleepily into her pillow, sighing as she inhaled. _Why does my bed still smell like Damon? He's been gone for a month_, she wondered, scrunching her nose in confusion. Brushing the thought off, she struggled to roll over to face the window, meeting a wall of hard muscle. Her heartbeat sped up when an arm constricted around her waist and pulled her closer, panic nipping in her throat. _There's someone in my bed. Oh my fuck_.

Elena's thoughts raced as she carefully shifted in the person's arms, prepared to rear up and beat the living hell out of her apparent bedmate. The sudden movement roused the man from sleep, and he sobered up enough to catch the small hand flying toward his face.

"Fucking Christ, Damon!" Elena whispered harshly, glaring down at him. "What are you-" A breeze drifted across her chest, and her eyes shot down to her naked body. Her lips formed a perfect 'O' before she snatched the bed sheet up and covered herself.

Damon chuckled, a sleepy smirk dangling from his lips. "That's the welcome home party I get? I was expecting something more Macy's Day Parade-ish, but I guess this will work," he teased, earning a smack in the chest from a very flustered Elena.

He moved to speak, but Elena raised her hand. "Just give me a second to process this. And last night. And…" She gestured between them, lifting the sheet to reveal Damon's equally nude form. A blush spread under the thin skin of Elena's cheeks as she recounted the previous night's romp. She tried valiantly to concentrate, but Damon proved to be quite the distraction, drawing lazy circles on her now exposed stomach.

The muscles of her tummy rippled under his touch, her pensive mind unable to stifle the giggle that slipped out. Damon stretched up and kissed up her neck, to her chin, and landed on her lips for less than a second before she pulled away sharply.

"Morning breath. Definitely a no," she said curtly, shaking her head.

Damon pouted. "I don't care about that, 'Lena," he assured, leaning in for a second time. This time, her palm separated them, smushed against his face.

"Nuh uh. Nope. Not at all," she laughed. Her legs scrambled off the bed to escape Damon's groping hands, and she ran to the bathroom. Her gums ached with how furiously she scrubbed her teeth, eager to return to Damon. Her gaze landed on him as she reentered the bedroom, and she smiled radiantly, bounding to the mattress and leaping lithely to the spot next to the man.

Settling snugly beside him, she looked up, tapping his nose with hers. "What's that face?" she asked, observing his serene expression.

"What face?"

"That face," Elena pointed in awe.

Damon's eyes rolled dramatically and his mouth quirked up. "I'm happy," he murmured, wrapping his hand around her hip and pulling her to him. Elena smiled, touching her nose to his, and pressed their lips together.

"Not to kill the moment, but," Damon paused, massaging her thigh, "we _should_ talk about last night." Elena groaned and burrowed her face in his chest, enjoying the slow rumble of laughter coming from Damon. "C'mon, baby," he urged, patting her side. Though she'd just woken up, and would much rather do something _else_ than talk, Elena dragged herself up to lean back on her knees, and looked down at Damon. He stroked her knee and turned his face up to her. "So tell me what happened."

"I don't know," Elena shrugged, "I was just overwhelmed I guess. I'm not used to shady guys following me around with cameras all day."

Damon smirked and nodded. "Yeah, I wouldn't expect you to be, especially since you've had the unfortunate pleasure of not being a part of the Hollywood scene for your entire life. But how are you doing now?"

"Right now?" she asked, throwing her leg over his waist and perching herself on his hips. "Right now, I'd say I'm on top of the world." His hands encircled her waist and held her there.

"I was thinking—"

"Oh no, that's a dangerous thing," Elena teased.

Damon scoffed and rolled his eyes. "And how many times have you used _that_ line?" Elena seemed to contemplate it for a few seconds before pouting and thrusting her tongue out at him. "What if I made a statement?" he continued.

"A statement?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "like a statement to the media outlets saying that you're my girlfriend."

Elena's eyebrow curved upward. "Oh, is that what I am? Are you sure I'm not your mistress?" she baited.

"I mean you _could_ be that if you really want to, but I'd like to show you off, and I don't think I could do that if you were my mistress, since the title of mistress apparently holds a hint of shameful secrecy," Damon joked.

"And how do you think all your little fangirls will react?"

"Let me tell you a little secret," he whispered conspiratorially, glancing around shiftily. Elena leaned forward, allowing Damon to place his lips against her ear. "I don't give a fuck." Elena snorted and leaned back.

"Okay, okay, so you'll make a statement. Don't you need to go through your manager or director or ass-wiper or something?"

"Yes, my personal ass-wiper must filter what comes from my mouth." The two laughed. "Let's go get lunch, and then we'll stop by my publicist's office and arrange for a statement to be made. Sound good?" Elena nodded.

"Well, now that that's settled, shall we shower?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"I'll race you," Elena proposed with a glint in her eye. She hopped off the bed and scurried toward the bathroom.

"What will I get if I beat you there?" Damon shouted.

Elena turned quickly and faced him, cocking her hip and tapping her foot. "I'll just be forced to reward you then," she said loftily, shrugging nonchalantly.

Damon had never bolted out of bed after just waking faster than he had that morning.

This time, when Damon and Elena stepped out of the elevator hand in hand, they weren't met with an empty parking garage. When the doors parted, the couple saw a few members of the paparazzi loitering around an old Toyota Corolla. The couple hesitantly walked out into the open, and were promptly swarmed by dozens of paparazzos.

Elena, having decided in the shower that morning that she would take no prisoners, held her head high and Damon's hand tight. They navigated through the mob swiftly and slid into the Jag. Elena noticed that as they pulled out of the parking spot, the paparazzi scattered to their individual cars and roared out of the garage behind them. She looked pointedly at Damon and laughed.

Flashes and harsh stares characterized their lunch, as Elena and Damon attempted to dine in peace. A few times, Damon's fans shyly approached him and requested an autograph. Though polite and sweet to him, many of the fans openly glared at Elena, as if to say, _This is my territory, bitch_. Whenever a dirty look was thrown her way, Elena squared her shoulders, smiled, and popped a forkful of grilled chicken into her mouth.

The frenzy of shouts and cameras did not overwhelm Elena as much this time as she and Damon strolled from the restaurant onto the sidewalk. She'd come to expect this sort of pandemonium wherever she went now, whether or not she was with Damon, and decided that she would do just about anything to keep Damon around—including dealing with the paparazzi. Lining herself up with Damon's side, she walked with him back to the car.

"I just want to prepare you for what you're about to experience," Damon grimaced. "Esther isn't exactly sunshine and rainbows when it comes to things like this."

"I think if I've dealt with the whack jobs following us, I can handle your bitchy publicist," Elena panned. Damon gave her a hesitant glance, but didn't say another word on the subject.

When the car pulled up to a gate, Elena quirked her eyebrow. "So is this woman the President's publicist, as well? Because she's got enough security here to take down an army of enemy combatants," she remarked, noting the bulky men in charcoal suits guarding the entrance.

"She's never been one for subtlety," Damon sighed, reaching out through his window to hand his ID to the seated man in the security booth.

The car slid forward and wound around a short road until it pulled in front of a large Tuscan-style mansion. "Nah, I definitely think she's into being inconspicuous," Elena muttered sarcastically.

The door to Esther's home was ornate—wooden, carved intricately and laced with trails of gold. The gold handle turned less than a minute after Damon knocked, and a young man in a tailored blue suit answered the door.

"Ah, Damon, what a splendid surprise," a distinct English accent enunciated. The man smiled warmly and gestured for the couple to enter. "And who is this stunning lady?"

"Elijah, great to see you. This," Damon said, pulling Elena to him, "is my girlfriend, Elena."

Elijah quirked his eyebrow and smirked. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend. But nonetheless," Elijah excused, lifting Elena's hand to his lips and kissing it, "it's wonderful to meet you."

Elena smiled and blushed, ducking her head just slightly in embarrassment.

"Anyway, where is your lovely mother? Elena and I need to speak with her."

"She's in her office. I would escort you there, but I must be going. I'm running a tad late to lunch with Rebekah, and you know how she can be," Elijah huffed, eyes rolling. "Again, it was wonderful to see you, Damon, and to meet you, Elena. I do hope you stick around, because Lord knows that this guy needs all the help he can get."

Elena laughed and waved at her new acquaintance as he exited. "He seems nice," she commented.

"Oh, Elijah? Yeah, he's cool. His mother…" he trailed off unsurely. "She's another story."

Damon led Elena up a curving marble staircase, his hand warm and gentle against her lower back. Elena marveled at the exquisite décor in the home, and scrutinized the surely very expensive artwork that lined the golden walls of the hallway. Damon stopped in front of a large cream door that surprised Elena in its understated design. He breathed in deeply and squeezed Elena's hand, before turning the knob and opening the door.

Directly in front of an expansive window sat a slender woman behind a modern glass desk. Her blond hair was cut sharply in a shoulder-length bob, and brushed against perfectly postured shoulders covered in a silk crimson button down shirt. She glanced toward the door upon Damon and Elena's entrance, pen tapping impatiently against the surface of the desk.

"Damon!" Her voice, soft and motherly, did not correlate with her hard appearance. "How wonderful!" She stood in a flurry and rushed over to Damon, stretching up on her toes and kissing Damon's cheeks. Pulling back, she held Damon's face in her hands and smiled. As Esther's head turned to the other being in the room, Elena could see the smile fall, and be replaced by a scowl.

"And I see you brought the mistress. How…unexpected," she sneered.

Elena scoffed. "That's Miss Gilbert, to you."

"Yes," Esther disregarded unappreciatively. "Sweetheart, to me, you're just another spot on Damon's reputation that I've got to scrub away." The woman spun on her heel and returned to her position behind the desk. Elena noted with levity that Esther subconsciously stuck her nose up when Elena approached the seat beside the one Damon occupied.

"Esther, I pay you to handle my public image, not to make snide remarks about with whom I choose to spend my time. We came here to discuss making a statement regarding my relationship status with Elena," Damon affirmed.

"I don't think you pay me enough to clean up this _mess_."

At this point, Elena wanted to gag at Esther's inhospitality and presumptuous attitude. She leaned forward and placed her hands on the cool desktop. "All right, Esther, let's get this out on the table: You think I'm a gold digger, yes?"

Esther's hand flew to her chest dramatically, and she gasped. "Oh, no, darling, I don't think you'll be around long enough to dig at his gold."

"No?"

"No, no, certainly not. I do believe the proper term for my opinion of you is, 'flavor of the week.'"

Elena's blood blazed beneath her skin, and she could feel it racing through her veins. A cursory glance toward Damon assured her that it was okay to defend herself. "I didn't come here to change your opinion of me, and I definitely didn't come here to impress you. I accompanied Damon to support him in whatever he'd like to say to the public, and since you're the channel through which he speaks, it seems that you'll have to deal with my presence. Do we all agree?" she smiled sweetly.

Esther's lip curled unattractively, but to her credit as a publicist, she knew when she should shut her mouth on a subject. "So, Damon, you want to announce to the world that you're dating an average girl." Elena pursed her lips but chose not to point out any of Esther's remarks. "We've got to be careful about the way we approach this, because I'm guessing you two haven't known each other very long."

"A month and a half," he clarified. His publicist's face contorted in dissatisfaction as she made a few notes on the legal notepad in front of her. "Elena has been exposed to the paparazzi, as we know from the news reports, and earlier, I saw a report about her talking with the paps about stalking her when she had my daughter with her."

"Ah, yes," Esther mused. "I heard about that. Your little _spitfire_ here had quite a good time telling the buggers off."

Damon smirked and looked over adoringly at Elena. "Well, let's see what we can do to recover from this," Esther sighed.

A statement was prepared within the hour. Damon was the first to stand, sliding his hand into Elena's and pulling her up after him. "Esther, as always, it was a pleasure doing business with you, in the whole thirty seconds that you _weren't_ insulting my girlfriend."

"Anything for you, Damon," she answered civilly.

Damon strolled to the door and held it open for Elena. A thought popped into Elena's head and she held up her finger to Damon. "Oh, and Esther?"

"Yes?" the woman asked with irritation.

"I do hope that, if I am his flavor of the week, I'm Love Potion Number 31. That _is_ his favorite. Ironic, isn't it?" Elena said coolly, stepping out into the hall. "Absolutely marvelous to meet you."

Damon snickered and followed her out, clicking the door shut without a look back.

"That was interesting," he commented once they were out in the heat.

"A trip to Disney World," Elena deadpanned. "But I can handle it."

Damon looked over at her and smiled. "I know you can," he whispered. With this, he kissed her temple and buckled her into her seat.

"Just don't invite that bitch to Thanksgiving dinner," Elena quipped.

"Do you want to come back to my place and watch a movie with us?"

Though she desperately wanted to accept his invitation, Elena was mindful of his relationship with his daughter. "Damon, you've been gone for a month. Don't you want to spend time with your Katie?"

Damon was quiet for a moment, contemplating what she'd said. "Would it make me a bad father if I said that I want to spend time with both of my girls?" he asked insecurely.

A flush of emotion ran through Elena. She placed her against the side of his head and stroked the hair above his ear. "No, it makes you a wonderful man," she murmured, smiling softly at him as he tilted his head into her palm. He reached up and took her hand in his, kissing the inside of it lightly.

As soon as Elena heard the small pebbles crunch under the tires in the Salvatore driveway, Katie toddled out on her little feet to greet them. Her arms were stretched up in the air in excitement, and when Damon and Elena stepped out of the car, she ran up to the couple, shouting, "Daddy! 'Wena!"

Damon picked her up and spun her around, eliciting a giggle from her small lips. "What's up, butter cup?" he asked, squishing a kiss to her cheek.

"Unca Stefan and Cawowine took me to a pawk and I went on da swings, and now dey ah makin dinna!" She reached out to grasp Elena's hand, making the woman smile.

"Then let's go in and eat, huh?" Elena suggested, lifting Katie from her father's arms so he could open the door for them.

"We're home, lovebirds!" Elena called out, snickering with Damon at the very startled, very feminine gasp that came from the kitchen.

"Elena! Damon!" Caroline clamored, rushing into the foye. "We weren't expecting you so…um, soon." She smoothed her pants and combed her fingers through her hair.

Stefan stepped out behind her, chuckling. "Chill out, babe," he mumbled, kissing her hair.

"Katie said you two were making dinner?" Damon asked, rubbing his belly hungrily. Elena's stomach reacted to the statement instinctively, and emitted a humble growl.

"Grilled chicken with parmesan-baked asparagus and a salad, and chicken tenders with mac and cheese for the little lady," Stefan confirmed as he rocked back and forth on his heels satisfactorily.

He pulled Caroline back into the kitchen the finish supper, and Damon leaned down to place Katie on her feet. The child, now free to roam, ran to the living room and plopped down on the floor to play with her dolls.

"I'm gonna go shower, babe." Damon bowed and kissed Elena's forehead.

She smiled up at him. "'Kay, I'll go play with Katie." Damon patted her butt and turned up the stairs, leaving Elena to walk to the living room and sit beside Katie on the floor.

"Hey, sweetie." The little girl grinned at her and thrust one of the dolls into her hand. The two played for a bit until Caroline called them into the dining room. Katie popped up while Elena tidied up the play area.

A sharp cry rang out, and Elena's ears perked up worriedly. "Katie? Katie?" she called out, panicked. She couldn't see the child, but she knew that the wail had come from her. "Katie! Where are you?"

"'Wena!" a small voice bawled from behind one of the couches. Scenarios raced through Elena's mind. What if Katie broke a leg? An arm? What if she cracked her skull? _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ She rushed to where the voice came from, nearly tripping in her haste. She heard Katie's cries before she saw her, crumpled on the floor, grasping her leg.

"'Wena!" she whined, turning her face up to Elena and holding her arms out.

Elena scooped her up quickly, cradling the child to her body. "Sh, baby girl, it's okay; you're okay. I'm here." Katie's tears dripped down Elena's collarbone, her tiny nose smushed into her neck. Elena brushed Katie's chestnut hair back, shushing her and cooing words of comfort in her ear.

The cries quieted and the tears slowed, leaving sniffles and whimpers in their wake. "What happened, sweetheart?" Elena whispered, nuzzling her face into Katie's hair comfortingly.

"I twipped and banged my knee into da fwoor," Katie sobbed.

"Sh, sh, sh, come on, let's sit on the couch for a second." Elena carried the girl to the sofa and sat her on her lap. "Point to where it hurts."

Katie's chubby finger directed Elena's attention to the lower portion of her knee. Elena's leaned down and kissed it gently, before placing her palm over the already-bruising area. "When I was little, whenever I got hurt, my mom used to hold her hand to the spot and say that the warmth I felt was her heart healing my boo-boo through her palm," Elena murmured, rubbing tiny circles on the side of Katie's knee with her thumb.

Katie sniffled and hiccoughed. "Yeah?" she asked quietly. Elena nodded her head and smiled, bending forward to kiss the child's forehead.

She held Katie to her for a few minutes until she settled down, and then pulled away. "How about we get some dinner in you, hm?" Elena stood with Katie in her arms, and gasped sharply when she turned around. "Jesus, Care, you scared the hell out of me," she whispered harshly, glaring at her eavesdropping friend.

Caroline, from her place against the kitchen doorway, smiled and motioned for Elena to come over. "Katie, Caroline wants to talk to me for a second, so I'm going to get you set up at the table so you can start eating, all right?" Elena sauntered into the dining room and perched the girl in a booster chair in front of her plate. "I'll be right back," she assured, stroking Katie's hair.

"Whatcha need, Care?" she asked as she approached the blonde, placing her hands on her hips; Caroline was silent for a few moments, appraising Elena. "What's gotten you to shut up for longer than two seconds?"

"You're very good with her," Caroline observed, nudging her face in Katie's general direction.

"She's very easy to be good with," Elena replied slowly, unsure of where Caroline was going with the conversation.

"No, it's different. It's…maternal," Caroline rattled thoughtfully. Elena remained quiet. "Hm. Well, nonetheless, it's time for dinner. Damon, get your Salvatore as-" Elena's cutting glare stopped Caroline short. "I mean, tush, down here!" she finished screechingly. Elena snorted at the slip up, and turned to reenter the dining room.

Minutes later, Caroline came in with a flourish, toting the plate of chicken and asparagus, trailed by the two brothers. Damon set the salad plates on the table before seating himself beside Elena. Stefan followed suit, placing the bowl of salad in the center of the layout, and sat next to Caroline.

Smiling, Damon watched his daughter kick her legs back and forth as she ate happily, and then look at Elena. "Everything good?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "Katie fell earlier, but we took care of it. Just a little bruise, is all."

"Shit, I should have-"

Elena snatched his hand and squeezed it in hers. "Damon, shut up. It was just a little tumble; a few tears, but no Niagara Falls. Besides, you needed a shower; you kind of stunk. No offense, babe," she winked.

He looked unsure for a second longer before his facial muscles relaxed into an easy smile. Elena grinned, and turned to the table, her eyes blazing wickedly. "All right, so who's got some embarrassing childhood stories?"

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**A/N: As always, review and let me know of your thoughts. I hope to have another chapter up in the coming week or so. Until next time!**


	10. Chapter 10: The Secret Ingredient

"If this isn't President Obama calling to ask my opinion on whether or not it should be legal for a member of the Jersey Shore cast to reproduce, then I want nothing to do with whatever you're about to say." Amidst darkness and mussed up sheets, Elena sat cross-legged on her bed, her hair knotted and clumped in splaying directions. The phone was pressed haphazardly to her ear, and she huffed loudly into the emptiness of the room.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to do with a certain boyfriend of yours standing outside your apartment, holding a quart of chicken noodle soup and Gatorade?" a smooth voice pouted.

Elena scowled and groaned. "That soup better be homemade," she mumbled.

"You wound me with your implication that I would bring you anything but homemade!" Damon dramatized. "Just come to the door, baby, and then you can go back to your cave."

She smiled weakly when she slid the front door open, and Damon responded in kind, placing his hand on her hip and skimming it soothingly. "Sorry I'm so cranky," Elena offered. "Whenever I get sick, I'm down for the count. And I'm sorry we had to cancel our dinner plans."

Damon had called earlier in the week to tell her that he'd made reservations for the two of them at _La Belle Rivière_, promising that it was the best French restaurant that Elena would ever dine at. She didn't mention that she'd barely been able to afford French fries, much less high-end French cuisine. But her immune system always decided to act up at the most inopportune moments, and this time was no different.

"You've been apologizing for the past three days. Stop worrying that pretty little head of yours. It'll only make you feel worse." Damon ran his hand down the back of Elena's head, stroking her hair softly. He swooped into the kitchen and placed the grocery bags on the counter, turning sharply back to Elena.

"Okay, missy," he began sternly, "go hop right back in bed. I'll bring the soup to you, and we'll watch a movie or something." Elena moved into the kitchen just slightly, and reached for one of the bags. "Nope!" Damon nudged Elena playfully toward the kitchen entryway. "Go back to bed right now. I'm going to take care of you."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're obnoxiously mother hen-like?" Damon motioned with his hands to shoo her out of the room. "Fine! Fine! I'm going!" she resigned, throwing her hands up in surrender.

Satisfied that she'd gone back to her room, Damon busied himself with preparing the soup. Back under the sheets, Elena fluffed her pillow and face-planted into it with a sigh. Moments later, the salty aroma of chicken broth floated around the room, and Elena couldn't help but be lured in by its delicious scent. She giggled when she lifted her head and saw Damon dancing around the room like Michael Jackson with the bowl in his hand. He glanced up at her and gave an Elvis smirk.

"You're such a dork!" she squealed, hurling one of the small pillows at him.

He just barely dodged it, getting nicked in the shoulder by one of the pillow's corners, and looked at her, aghast. "Hey, hey, hey! Be careful! I happen to be carrying Mama Salvatore's homemade medicine here!" He walked around to his side of the bed and folded his right leg under his hips carefully to avoid spilling the liquid. His smile faded slowly, his face adopting a serious expression. "It's hot, baby, so be careful. I need to run back out and grab the Gatorade, so give me a sec." He handed her the soup and held up a finger, hopping back up.

While waiting for him to return, Elena spooned a chunk of noodles, chicken, and carrot into her mouth, moaning as the flavors exploded on her taste buds.

"What is _in_ this? It's the best soup I've ever had," Elena commended as Damon reentered the room, beverage in hand.

"It's your basic chicken noodle soup recipe with one little twist that only Salvatores know," he explained, winking at her as he sat beside her. The Gatorade bottle rolled over to Elena, and she plucked it up eagerly. "How much have you had to drink lately?"

Elena peeked over at him sheepishly, biting her lip awkwardly. "Uh…enough, I think?"

His eyebrow quirked. "That doesn't sound convincing to me. We need to get lots of liquids in you." He tapped her nose and gave her a melting smile.

"I've been drinking just fine, thank you very much!" Elena defended indignantly, jerking her head upward in defiance.

"Sure, sure. Well, you're going to be drinking a lot today, so deal with it." Elena pouted. "You're too stubborn for your own good," Damon sighed and shook his head, laughing.

The couple chatted as Elena finished up her soup, taking in the last spoonful with a loud slurp. She looked up at Damon with a smile on her face that stopped his heart for a brief second. "Good girl. Now have some Gatorade." He watched speculatively as she gulped nearly half the bottle down, but kept quiet.

Without looking behind her, Elena placed the bottle on her nightstand and cuddled in next to Damon. Her eyes drooped closed as he ran his fingers through her hair. "Mm gonna take a nap," Elena slurred, already balancing on the precipice of sleep.

Damon nudged her body between the sheets and pulled the covers around her, tugging her to him. He began to hum, a soft, lulling melody that sounded faintly familiar to Elena's fading ears. But before she could identify it, her breaths evened, and she was out like a light.

Around two o'clock, an hour after she'd fallen asleep, Elena woke up to severe cramping in her stomach. A wave of nausea crept over her, and she bolted to the bathroom, her movement startling Damon awake.

"'Lena?" he called out into the room's quietness. "'Lena, are you okay?"

Elena's knees hit the cool tile of the bathroom floor, and her hand flew to the toilet seat just in time for her to wretch into the bowl.

From behind her, she heard the sounds of feet padding. "Oh, shit!" Damon scooped her hair back and held it out of her face while she heaved into the toilet. Her hands batted at his in an effort to get him out; she didn't want him to see her like this.

"You're throwing up, and you're still fighting me! Jesus Christ, woman, stop being so stubborn!" He reached over with one hand and grabbed the washcloth on the sink, wetting it and pressing it to the back of Elena's neck.

Moments passed until Elena was able to relax back into Damon's embrace. Sweat covered her body in a thin sheen, her hair unattractively matted to her forehead. Damon slid his finger under her chin and tried to turn her head to him. Embarrassed, she pulled her face away and hid in his arm.

"'Lena, stop. C'mere." Damon thumbed her face to him and brushed his thumb across her brow. "Let's get you in the shower. Up we go," he urged, standing and pulling her up gently. He propped her against the wall and turned the knob of the shower, turning back to her and reaching for the bottom of her T-shirt. He slowly tugged it above her head, pausing with a look of adoration. He kissed her forehead, a small smile spreading across Elena's closed lips. When she was fully undressed, Damon checked the temperature of the water and held her hand as she stepped into it.

Damon undressed quickly and followed her, wrapping his arms around her small body and dragging them both under the spray, supporting most of her weight. Brushing Elena's hair back from her face, he swept it under the water. He grabbed the shampoo bottle and squeezed some into his hand, rubbing his palms together before combing his fingers through the brown tresses in front of him, humming the same lullaby he'd used to help her sleep.

Rinsing the shampoo out, Damon reached for the conditioner and slathered it into Elena's hair from root to tip, massaging as he went. Her body wash smelled like warm vanilla as he rubbed it into her skin and washed it off. He kissed her nose sweetly as he rinsed her hair of the conditioner, and then shut the water off, yanking the towel from the shower door and wrapping it around her body.

After toweling off, Damon lead Elena back to bed, insisting that she sit on the bed, and searched her dresser drawers for panties and an oversized shirt. She dressed carefully, afraid that she might tip over from the vomit-induced exhaustion.

When they crawled back into bed, Elena turned to Damon. "I'm sorry. I don't usually throw up. I must have the flu or something." Her face twisted in confusion. "Or maybe I ate something weird?"

"Elena, don't apologize for being human. Humans get sick. Even I get sick, and I'm a celebrity!" he teased. Elena smiled, and the two sat in silence for a few moments.

A thought popped into her head, and Damon could see the concern written all over her face. "Damon, where is Katie?"

"She's spending the weekend with Grandma and Grandpa, don't worry," he assured. "But she did say she missed you a lot, and to get better soon so that she could see you again." He smiled as he nuzzled her face softly.

Elena mulled this over before she spoke. "Then you'd better get an IV drip of Mama Salvatore's homemade medicine ready."

It took a few days and a couple of quarts of Damon's chicken noodle soup, but Elena was back on her feet. So on her feet, in fact, that she was rushing to get to Daisy's on time. Her eyes spastically checked the large pink clock in the entrance of the diner as she ran through the door.

"I know, I know, I'm late! I'm sorry!" she huffed in response to the disapproving looks her co-workers shot her way. She hurriedly tied her apron on and smoothed it out just as the boss officially opened.

"Paul, it's wonderful to see you," Elena greeted her favorite customer warmly.

The elderly man sat at the breakfast bar and smiled at her, asking for his usual. "And how are you, Miss Elena?" he asked in his scratchy tone.

"I'm doing well, thank you." She turned and smiled at him, and then returned to pouring his coffee.

"Are you sure, hon? Marie's always got that damned television set of ours on, and I can't ever get a moment of silence without some bullshit news blasting through my house. But she did tell me about some pretty nasty rumors she saw on one of the reports, and she said that the girl looked a hell of a lot like you."

Elena's hand froze on the coffee pot, and her posture stiffened. She didn't turn around, for fear that she would say something wrong. Responses to his question raced through her head, and she felt dizzy at the unpleasant rush.

Steeling herself and forcing a smile onto her face, she turned to Paul. "No, Paul, I'm doing just fine. Now I think you owe me some family stories, since I haven't seen you in a few days. Tell me about those grandkids of yours." Her shoulders relaxed as Paul grinned and rambled about his grandchildren, the subject of her relationship out of the hot seat for the time being.

Elena kicked her feet up onto one of the breakfast bar stools, moaning at the relief she felt. After being on her toes all day, it was nice to relax them at closing time. She took a hefty sip from the glass of water on the counter beside her, and turned, startled, at the sound of her name.

"How did you manage to get Damon Salvatore? Did you tell him your sob story?"

"April, what an unpleasant surprise." Elena rolled her eyes at her co-worker. "You never do fail to comment on things that are far deeper than your kiddie-pool mentality."

"Very cute," April sneered, shifting her onyx hair over her shoulder haughtily. "But seriously, did he take you in as a charity case or something?" She clicked her teeth together, her eyes narrowing into slits.

Elena scrunched her nose up, pursing her lips quizzically, and cocked her head, and waited until the silence was visibly uncomfortable for the distastefully impolite woman before her. "I'd rather not comment on my personal life, but I'm ever so appreciative of your interest." Sarcasm dripped from her lips smoothly, and she smiled, knowing that she'd succeeded in pissing off April.

The woman scoffed. "You _do_ know that he's just looking for an easy fuck, right? And we _all_ know who's the one to go to for that, right, Elena?" Her eyes rolled dramatically as her hand placed itself on her hip.

Elena, having decided not to dignify April's comment with a tantrum-like response, simply lifted her eyebrow, spun on her heel, and clocked out. "Darlin', I get that you know my history and all, but you don't have the right to speak on the lives of anyone but yourself just because your daddy was the mayor of our hometown. Great talking to you, April." Her casual dismissal of the situation ended the conversation abruptly, and without a thought, she strolled out of the diner and toward her apartment.

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**A/N: Oh jeez, guys, I'm really sorry for two things: how short this update is, and how long I took to actually update. The only reason is really writer's block, to be honest. I'm working through this story so that I can make it the best experience for you guys, because I know what it's like to find a fic that you really like/dislike, and those feelings are powerful. I wanted you guys to have an update by this weekend, at least, even if it was short.**

**However, I'm definitely welcoming suggestions and reviews, as always, even if this chapter is short. So share! c:**


	11. Chapter 11: You Won't Love Me Anymore

**A/N: I have two things to apologize for:**

**1. I haven't updated in over a month. I'm so sorry for all of you who had to wait so long for an update. With the start of school, and the stresses that come with that and just life in general, I've had pretty severe writer's block. I've had about half of this chapter written for a few weeks, but just couldn't finish it.**

**2. I also apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors I've made in past and present chapters, and for those in future chapters. I don't know about you guys, but I hate it when there are mistakes in pieces of writing, fic or not. My writing process doesn't usually involve editing, though, so I rarely go back and read something-helps to keep it authentic.**

**Anyway, I've said my apologies; now read and enjoy!**

* * *

"Okay, so should I start singing _Honey, I'm Home_, or will you willingly rub my feet? Because these puppies hurt like a bitch," Elena sighed bluntly while stepping through her doorway. She tossed her purse in the corner and her keys on the table, tangling her fingers in her hair. Her gaze shot up to Damon, whose right index finger was over his lips as his left hand held his phone to his ear.

The couple had been bouncing back and forth between Elena's and Damon's places for the past two weeks, rarely able to dodge the all-seeing eye of the paparazzi. The media outlets continued to rip into Elena, venturing into her fashion sense and the places she frequented. Aside from having her trusty jeans criticized in nationally publicized print, what terrified Elena most was the possibility that the gossip magazines could uncover her past.

"Yeah, yeah, no, I understand. I think that's important, too." Damon's voice flowed into the kitchen, where Elena was now washing her hands in preparation for dinner. She tossed a head of lettuce onto the cutting board and chopped it, mixing it in with a bowl of pre-chopped tomato and onion. She popped some chicken strips into the salad, along with a handful of Parmesan cheese and toasted almonds. She hummed as she flicked the stove on and poured a can of tomato bisque soup into a pot and placed it on the burner.

Quick thumping came from behind her before Elena felt a small body collide with the back of her leg. "Wena!"

Elena smiled and turned at the hip, placing her hand atop Katie's head gently. "Hi there, missy. How was your day?"

"Good!" Katie gasped excitedly. "Daddy took me da store and gotted me some cawwots and ranch dwessing!"

"That sounds delicious!" Elena smiled. "Did you want to have some of that with dinner?" Katie nodded up at her and ran out of the kitchen, presumably to where her father sat.

After setting the table, Elena wiped her hands down her pants and shouted, "Damon, Katie! Dinner's ready!"

Damon swooped in with his daughter in his arms, smiling in Elena's direction, and put Katie down in her seat. "Hey, babe, sorry about that. I was talking to Bonnie about one of my scenes." He leaned over and kissed her cheek softly. "How was everything at work today?" he asked, his eyebrow raised.

Elena glanced over at Katie, who was forking chicken and salad into her mouth, before rolling her eyes. "April had today off, so there weren't any bitchfights. And Daisy let me off a few minutes early, so I read at the park for a little bit. I hear you guys went to the store? And you didn't buy me flowers?" she teased.

Damon's brows shot up in worry and his jaw dropped. "I…we, uh…"

"Pfft, shut up, you know I don't care about that kind of stuff." Her face scrunched in laughter as she stroked his face. "As long as we can have a glass of wine tonight, you know I'm good."

Hours later, Katie was sprawled across Damon's and Elena's laps, Elena stroking the child's hair while sipping from a glass of Riesling. Soft snores came from Katie's tiny mouth, and Elena looked down at her, smiling.

"She has your nose," she murmured, lightly tapping it. "And your mouth." She leaned forward and placed her glass on the coffee table.

Damon slipped his fingers across Elena's as he regarded her warmly. "I look at her every day and wonder how something that beautiful came from me."

"Damon, she's not just physically beautiful because of you. Everything about her is a mini reflection of you, but with a little twist of her own. She's brilliant, kind, probably one of the sweetest children I've ever met. She's just got this aura about her that's full of light. I'm sure, had her mother raised her, she wouldn't have turned out the same, and I don't know about you, but I don't want her any other way than this," Elena said, skimming her thumb over Katie's forehead.

Damon's silence made Elena look up, and her eyes met pools of emotive blue. "You're incredible." Those two words hung in the air, suspended between a man and woman who didn't necessarily need to speak further to communicate what they wanted to say.

She blushed and ducked her head, smiling. "No, I'm just someone who sees in people what they truly are."

Damon shook his head slowly and smiled, something he'd become accustomed to doing whenever Elena brushed off a compliment. "Let's put her to bed," he suggested, patting Elena's thigh.

She stood, scooping Katie into her arms and cupping the girl's head into her neck gently. Damon followed her to the bedroom that Katie had now claimed as her own, and helped Elena tuck her in.

"You know," Damon whispered as he pulled the door shut behind him, "most women wouldn't accept their boyfriend's daughter so easily." Elena stared at him blankly, trying to figure out where he was going with this. "I just think it's…it's just pretty amazing, that's all."

"Well, like I've told you before, I've got some experience in raising a kid. Plus, she's probably the easiest child to deal with," she beamed. "Now enough with the compliments. I do believe it's quite past my bedtime." She snickered and scurried to her bedroom, leaving Damon to chase after her.

The following day, Elena buzzed around, waiting on six tables. When her shift was over, she exited the diner and, with her attention directed toward her purse, turned toward her apartment building.

"Have you told your sugar daddy about what you did yet?" A feminine figure abruptly stepped out in front of Elena.

"April, honestly, do you not have anything better to do than try to torment me with what little knowledge you have of my past?" Elena sighed, brushing her hair out of her eyes and looking up at the girl in front of her.

April eyes widened innocently. "I'm just trying to protect him from becoming another person on the list of people you've fucked over."

"I haven't 'fucked anyone over,'" Elena corrected.

"You _stole_ my _boyfriend_. And don't get me started on the things you did to _him_."

"Oh, come _on_. There was nothing to steal from you, because Matt was never your boyfriend; that was all in your head. And I did _nothing_ to him. He and I are still friends to this _day_. You have no idea what my family and I went through, and you have no right to speak about it. I realize that you can't see past the tip of your own nose, but keep it out of my fucking business."

Elena blinked back tears as she pushed past April. She took deep breaths to stave off crying, and intentionally slowed her steps incase April was still watching. _Can't give her the fucking satisfaction_. She furiously pressed the UP button on the elevator in the lobby, and let out a sigh of relief when the doors closed.

She hurried to her apartment and jerked the key in the door, swinging it open and shutting it behind her quickly. Her eyes cut sharply to the living room floor, where Damon sat playing with Katie. When their gazes connected, Elena hiccoughed and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door, sealing her off from the rest of the apartment.

Her legs buckled beneath her, her knees crashing to the chilled tile. Chocolate strands fell around Elena's face as she cradled her cheeks in her palms. Salty droplets seared her skin as they drew shiny tracks and patterns across her face. Her ears picked up on the rapid knocks at the door, and Damon whisper-shouting, "Elena? Elena, what's wrong? Let me in."

Her lungs grasped at whatever air they could take in, and her head began to spin with the excess intake of oxygen. Her vision began to blur, and a pounding began behind her eyeballs. Her blood throbbed through her veins, her fingers pulsating with the increased pace in flow.

"Elena, come on. Let me in. Just let me in; you have to let me in," Damon pleaded. _Let him in. Let him in. Let him in._ With whatever strength she could muster, Elena reached up and flicked the lock. The knob turned in the same second, and Damon was beside her in an instant.

He held her as she gasped, sniffling and staining his shirt with her tears. His calming shushes and gentle rocking soothed Elena into silence.

"Are you ready to tell me what happened?"

Elena was quiet for a moment before she answered. "Where's Katie?"

"I called Stefan after you came home and asked him to come get her. She's gonna spend the night with Caroline and him." He brushed the matted hair off her forehead and pressed a gentle kiss to the spot across which his fingers had brushed. "What happened?"

"April just…brought up things from my past that she doesn't know enough to be talking about. And it just…it's hard." She swallowed and ducked her head.

Damon was quiet for a few beats. Suddenly, Elena felt his finger under her chin. She looked up at him inquisitively. He didn't speak, and instead smiled, leaned forward, and kissed her nose softly.

Damon's arms tightened around her and scooped her up, his legs carrying them to her bed. He placed her down gently, running his hands down her body lightly. His slender fingers popped the button on her jeans, and pulled them down past her ankles. He trailed his lips up her legs, reaching his hands up to unbutton her top slowly.

"Damon, I'm not-" Elena squirmed.

"Shhh," he whispered, "just let me take care of you." Her shirt slipped from her shoulders, and she relaxed back on the pillows, resigned to the fact that Damon was going to do what he felt would make her feel better. Her panties and bra soon fell, and she lay bare before him.

He undressed himself and slid behind her, his naked front to her supple back. His fingers, soft and careful, dragged along her side, rubbing the skin gently. He wiggled his feet between hers and rolled himself on top of her.

"You shouldn't worry yourself over what this woman says, 'Lena. You're an amazing person, and I intend to show you just how true that is."

His face lowered to hers, his lips capturing hers in a tender kiss. Their mouths melded together, sliding and laving over one another sensuously. His fingers drifted between them and separated her lower lips, massaging her folds. His hips positioned themselves at her entrance and pushed forward, his stiffness entering her warmth smoothly.

His thrusts were calculated, and their foreheads met as he moved in her. Their breaths mingled and hands tangled. The bedsheets crinkled beneath them, and grunts bounced off the walls. Aside from these few sounds, the two were mostly silent, instead conveying their every emotion with their eyes.

They came in unison, their lips, like nets, catching their pants and moans and trapping them between the two of them like a well-kept secret. Damon kissed her cheek and nuzzled against it, remaining there a few moments before moving beside her. His hand clung to hers between their slick bodies, his thumb skimming across the skin there.

"I know that this is probably way too early," Damon began, feeling Elena's pulse quicken with his words, "but, 'Lena, I can't explain it. We're still getting to know each other, but I think I lo-"

"Damon, stop."

His face turned to her, an expression of pain painted across it.

"I need- I need to tell you. I need to tell you what happened. And you have to promise to listen to all of it, because I promise, that by the end of it, you won't love me anymore."

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** A/N: I know it's supremely short, and I'm sorry about that, too, but it's a little bit of a filler chapter for the coming chapter.**

**Thanks for sticking with me. We've got a lot more to see on this journey, so if you would, please stick with me a little longer!**

**Until next time! x**


	12. Chapter 12: Life and Death

"My parents drove off a bridge when I was ten." The silence that followed Elena's statement was paradoxically deafening. "The original plan was that I'd stay the night at my friend's house, and they'd pick me up the next morning. They dropped me off at Cara's house, kissed me goodbye, and told me they'd come around eleven the next morning. On the way home, a driver in the opposite lane crossed into my parents'. It wasn't clear whether the person was on the phone or had fallen asleep at the wheel, but they weren't drunk. Either way, the guy's car drifted into my mom and dad's lane, and my parents swerved to avoid the accident. Turns out there was a bridge next to them, and they crashed through it and fell into the water below. They were dead on arrival." Damon stared, entranced by this woman's horrifying story.

"I didn't find out about it until the next day. My brother, who was four at the time, was staying with a family friend. Cara's mom woke us up at nine and served us breakfast. They had a small TV on the corner of their kitchen counter, and the news channel was on. It was pretty much background noise, but I did catch that a man and woman had driven off of Wickery in some sort of accident. My friend and I ran off to play after we finished our pancakes. Eleven o'clock rolled around, then twelve, until it was 1:30, and my friend's mom was getting worried.

"Our town is very small, and everyone knows each other. It's one of those 'you either hate or love your neighbor' sort of thing. My mom and my friend's mom had been friends back in high school, so naturally, her daughter and I grew up together. I remember watching her from the doorway, seeing how worried she was. She was pacing in the kitchen with the phone in her hand, a confused expression on her face, and ended up calling the town sheriff, our next-door neighbor, to make sure that mom and dad had gotten home alright.

"The look on Cara's mother's face told me pretty much all I needed to know, and I subconsciously connected the dots. The couple going off the bridge, not being picked up when my normally-punctual parents said they'd get me, the eerie similarity between the family car and the one pictures on the news that morning. I ran into the kitchen and wrapped myself around her waist and just cried. Everything in me shut down, and I was completely numb.

"After the accident, Liz, the social worker assigned to our case tried to contact any living family members to take custody of Jeremy and me; no one came forward. We were placed in the foster system, and at least had the luck of not being separated. I was in the system until I was eighteen. I didn't have my mom with me when I got my period, and I bought my first bra with a 54-year old Russian woman named Olga. My father wasn't around to threaten boys, and he wasn't around to help me with my Algebra work." Elena couldn't look Damon in the eye; she knew that he'd bear that same pained, pitiful expression that nearly every other person she'd told the story to shared. "I sort of floated through middle school and my early years of high school unnoticed. I was in a lot of pain, and I didn't know how to process the fact that both of my parents were buried under fucking grass and soil.

"I met Matt in eleventh grade, when he was a senior. He was simple, a pretty boy, star quarterback on the local high school football team. He was always very sweet, very good to me. I hadn't fully told him the story, but I suspect he knew, since word travels fast and in great detail in Mystic Falls. But he was the first person in _years_ to treat me like a normal human being, not the pathetic girl who hid in a hoodie in the back of the classroom.

"We dated for two years, and I lost my virginity to him. It wasn't a cliché, after-prom romp or anything. He planned it out and made sure I was comfortable. Afterward, I felt like I might have a chance at normalcy again. But then I started having really bad cramps, and I kept getting sick. The woman I'd been living with was a strict Catholic who didn't believe in birth control, so I wasn't on the Pill, but Matt and I had used a condom. Still, I went to the drugstore to rule out that possibility. I remember that I kept thinking, 'There's no way I can be pregnant,' the whole way to the store, but when I took the test in the cramped stall of the bathroom and saw the two little red lines flash onto the screen, that thought was shot to hell."

"But I thought you said-" Elena's hand came up to cut Damon off, and he sat, waiting for her to continue.

"I was worried that Matt would freak out when I told him, but I took the chance; I didn't want my baby growing up without a father. He didn't flip out, and he didn't demand that I get an abortion. To be quite honest, I'd considered it; I was too young to raise a child, and hadn't really had parents for most of my life, so how was I supposed to raise a kid? The only thing that kept me from doing it was the little string of hope that _maybe_ this baby would bring some normalcy into my life, that I could love it and care for it half as well as my parents did for me when they were alive.

"The people in my town never really leave, so they tend to just marry childhood sweethearts. So when Matt proposed to me, I accepted. He didn't have enough money to buy me a fancy engagement ring, so he bought me a tiny promise ring from the antique shop in town, and swore that when he got a stable job, he'd buy whatever ring caught my attention.

"But soon after the engagement was official, I fell into a depression. I don't know if there's a pre-partum depression or anything. The doctors never explained that to me; or maybe they did, and I was just too out of it. Either way, I was three months along when I took an entire bottle's-worth of my foster mom's pills and passed out. Jer was eleven, and had just come home from soccer practice when he found me on the floor of our shared bathroom." Damon's jaw went slack, his eyes watering up.

"I was later told that when the ambulance arrived at the hospital and I was wheeled into one of the rooms to be revived, Jeremy had to be held back from running after the gurney, and kept screaming, 'Don't leave me like they did! Don't, 'Lena, don't!'" Damon reached for Elena's hand, but she pulled it back and placed it in her other hand. "After fifteen minutes of working on me, they were able to bring me back. The first thing I heard when I woke up was, '…baby didn't make it,' before I passed out again. But this time I just slept. I slept for thirteen hours, and when I awoke, Matt was sitting in the corner of the room, passed out from exhaustion; Caroline, who is Liz's daughter, was beside him, flipping through a fashion magazine; and Jer was waiting next to my bed, holding onto my hand so tight, like he thought he was the only thing in the world keeping me from death.

"One of the doctors officially told me that they had been able to revive me, but that the amount of medication I'd taken had been too much for the baby's developing system to handle," Elena quivered, her hand wiping away at the tears she'd been trying to sniffle back. "Matt was glad that I was okay, but he was devastated about the baby. I don't think I'd realized how much he'd been preparing to become a father those few months. We tried to piece our relationship back together, but how can you do that if your entire future was concocted because of a baby that was now dead?

"We ended up calling off the engagement. By then, I was about a month away from graduating. The only people who attended my graduation were Jer, Matt, and Liz, who'd stuck with us for nearly a decade. After my eighteenth birthday, I was an adult in the eyes of the law, and was no longer eligible for foster care. I was preparing to move out of the house and into my childhood home, which I'd inherited, but wasn't able to live in until I was an adult, when Liz called and told me something I thought I'd never hear.

"My mother's twenty eight-year old sister, Jenna, had contacted her and requested custody of Jeremy. He'd turned twelve that March, and I was planning on becoming his legal guardian; I didn't want my little brother to have to fend for himself in some foster home while I was out living my life. When Liz told me about Jenna, I was furious. Where had this woman been when we needed her eight years before that phone call? Where had she been on the night of the accident? Why hadn't she come to get us, to console us, to patch our family together after what happened?

"The initial anger passed eventually, but skepticism took its place. I barely knew anything about my aunt. She'd been the black sheep of my mother's side of the family, shunned by my grandparents after her less-than-ideal teenage lifestyle. Mom had kept in touch with her, but hadn't introduced her to us in fear that it would be revealed to us how harsh her parents had been to their own child. So Jer and I didn't even know she existed until that night when Liz called.

"I allowed her to take custody of Jeremy, because she was older, and already had an established career as a realtor. Our childhood house was, and is, technically still in my name, but I let Jenna and Jer move in so they could have a house, and I moved up here. I kept a close eye on him to make sure that he wasn't getting into any trouble, and started up the tradition of sending him whatever money I could scrounge up. He went through a little drug phase in high school, but it only lasted about a year, until he realized that he could overdose like I almost did, and leave me alone.

"It took a while for me to warm up to Jenna. She's got a very kind nature, but I was still skeptical of her. Over Christmas break, a few years after she adopted Jer, she and I had a talk at the dining room table. She explained why she hadn't claimed us when the accident happened. She'd been a college student, and didn't have her wits about her. She said she would get high almost every night, and didn't have the best track record with men. She knew that we were in foster care, but didn't want to become our guardian, or even really get us involved in her lifestyle, until she had her shit together."

Elena glanced up and waited for Damon to say something, to get up and leave, to do _anything_ other than just stare blankly at her. She looked down again and trained her eyes on a loose string in the comforter.

"So that's the tragic story of poor little Elena Gilbert, suicidal orphan," she bit out when he still hadn't spoken. His face screwed up in discomfort at her harsh tone, until he sighed.

"That explains why you're so maternal with Katie. And why you had to sell your car to pay the bills. But how does April fit into the picture?" Elena was shocked; out of all the reactions she'd prepared for, inquisitive wasn't one of them.

"She was a freshman in high school when everything with Matt went down. She had a cliché crush on the quarterback, and took advantage of the opportunity to befriend him when he was in need. She deluded herself into thinking that he was her boyfriend, so when I woke up from the coma and got back with him, she flipped out and accused me of stealing her boyfriend."

"But he was your fiancé at the time," Damon clarified. Elena nodded, and he rolled his eyes. "Well, she's fucking psycho."

She giggled and swept the fresh tears from her face. "Yeah, she's a handful. But her father was the mayor, so she whined to daddy and I was made out to look like the bitch." She shrugged and toyed with the comforter.

"'Lena." She didn't look up. "Elena," Damon said more powerfully. This time, she slid her eyes slowly to meet his, and bit her lip. "You can't possibly think that your past will make me run away. If anything, I love you more because of it. You know that, right?" he implored, searching her eyes. She cast her face downward again, fearing that he was just saying all this to get her to stop crying.

The pad of his finger, soft and smooth, tilted her chin up. "Elena, everyone has a past. Hell, mine isn't exactly sunshine and roses. But our past is what makes us so interesting. It shapes us and builds us into these intricate creatures. They don't make us disgusting; our pasts make us lovable."

Fear masked as anger seeped into Elena's brain. "Damon, I've heard all that bullshit before; I went to mandatory therapy after both the accident _and_ the near-overdose. I'm not a charity case for you to take on, fix up, and abandon once I seem whole again."

The venom laced in her words stung Damon, but he plowed on. "You're not a fucking charity case, Elena; you're the woman I love! Don't you see that?" Her expression was vacant, and he huffed, frustrated. "How do you not see that in everything I do? In holding you when you're breaking down? Bringing you homemade soup when you're sick? Keeping your hair out of your face while you're throwing up? Showering with you because you could barely hold yourself up? How do you not see it in the way I look at you when you're with my daughter, being more of a mother to her than her biological mother could have ever hoped of measuring up to?

"How do you not feel it when we're making love? And god _damn_ it, I've hated that phrase for my entire life, but any other euphemism for it—sex, fucking, sleeping together—absolutely degrades what is created when the two of us are connected. How do you not see it when I come home early from a shoot to surprise you? How do you not see it in the pride that I feel when I see you defending my daughter from the paparazzi? When I see you defending _yourself_ from those assholes? But most importantly, how do you not see it right now? How do you not see the respect that I have for you, after hearing that you've lived a life meant only for movies guaranteed to have a happy ending? How do you not see the complete adoration I feel for you _right now_?

"Elena, I love you, and no amount of death, fucked up family drama, or insecurity is going to dissolve the massive portion of my heart reserved for you. I'm going to be here. Right _here_," he emphasized, digging his finger into the comforter in front of her, "until you decide that I'm no longer worthy enough of your presence."

Wide-eyed and stunned, Elena sat with her legs crossed, her hands frozen on the comforter. She didn't speak, couldn't speak, because her breath was caught in her throat.

"And you don't have to say it now, because I know you've had a really hard day, and I'm not even sure you feel the same way yet, and I don't want you to feel pressured-"

"Will you shut up and let me talk?" Elena cut in. Damon nodded, and Elena took a calming breath. "Cut the shit about not having to say it now because today was hard, because all days are hard in their own respect. And you're not sure I feel the same way yet? Do you want me to go on a twenty minute-long rant with a bunch of rhetorical questions like you just did, explaining how I've shown my love for your in various situations? Because I can totally do that, but I figured I'd just cut to the chase and say what you really want to hear.

"I love you, too, Damon. And you really didn't have to explain why you feel the way you do in such great detail, although kudos to you for making that probably the most romantic thing I've ever heard and will ever hear in my entire life. I love you for lots of reasons, many of which I can't even put into words because it's hard enough finding terms in the English language to concretely describe what I _can_ explain, much less those things I can't quite verbalize."

Damon's expression morphed from terrified to over-the-moon happy in the course of thirty seconds, and before Elena knew what was happening, his lips were pressed to hers in a kiss that seared her entire body.

"There's one clause, though," Elena interjected, breaking apart from him. His body immediately shut down, and his posture slackened. "You can't leave now, or I'll hunt your ass down. We can't have anyone knowing the shady life story of the famous Elena Gilbert," she cracked, smiling crookedly as his eyes lit his entire face.

He leaned in, pecking her lips softly. "I think I can deal with that," he breathed, joining his lips to hers for what certainly wouldn't be the last time.


	13. Chapter 13: Everyone Needs Wuv

**A/N: Again, I must apologize for the delay in updating-everything with school and my personal life has been really hectic lately. This is a really short chapter-it's kind of a filler, and a lead-in to the next one.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Elena's fingers tickled Damon's skin lightly, tracing patterns across his abdomen. Her face shifted against his chest, and she gazed up at him, watching his mouth twitch in sync with her ministrations against his belly. Her hand slipped just below the waistband of his sleep pants, eyes still trained on his face, and drew circles on the thin skin there.

The corner of her lips quirked up as she tip-toed her fingers further, wrapping them around the base of his cock and sliding down its smoothness. It hardened further in her palm, and his eyelids fluttered as she slowly stroked his length.

"Damon," she drawled, circling her index finger around his tip. He whimpered, and his head shifted to the left. "Damon." Her speed picked up, her hand constricting briefly around the base before pulling up. She smiled wickedly as his body shuddered in reaction, and propped her head against his stomach, continuing to pump him.

His eyes opened slowly, a sleepy haze masking his baby blues. "'Lena?" he mumbled. "What are you doing?"

Rather than reply, she lowered her lips to his belly, reveling in the soft hardness of his skin, and continued caressing him. The pace quickened, and Elena basked in the soft moans that escaped his lips as she worked his most sensitive part.

His hips rose infinitesimally from the mattress, and Elena slinked down his body, dropping her lips to encircle his cock. Seconds later, he exploded, his heat dripping down Elena's throat.

He exhaled softly and reached down, tugging her arms and bringing her up to meet him. Forehead to forehead, Damon smiled warmly, squishing his nose against her. "That was _some_ way to wake up," he chuckled.

She smiled and rubbed his belly, nuzzling her face into his neck. Damon rolled to the right, curling Elena into his body. Their breaths synchronized, and they allowed a few quiet moments to pass between them.

"Can we get Katie from Stef today? I miss her."

Damon pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Sounds like plan, babe. Do you want to do anything today?"

"Well, Rocco has an appointment at the vet's office, so I was thinking that Katie would want to go with me, and maybe go to the toy store afterward."

"I think if you did that, there might be a contest regarding who loves you more: me or her. But that can be arranged, yes. I've got to go in for a few scenes today, anyway. I can drop you two and Rocco off, but I won't be done filming for a few hours."

"That's cool; I'll have Care pick us up and take us to the store." She smiled and pecked his lips, snuggling deeper into his embrace. His breath tickled her forehead, and his fingers toyed with her hips.

"'Lena?" His voice was quiet, almost as if he didn't want her to hear.

"Mmmm," she responded, her eyes closed peacefully.

He paused. "What…what were you going to name the baby?" Her breath hitched, and she stiffened. "I shouldn't be asking that. I'm sorry."

The silence between them felt stale, and he began shifting his shoulders awkwardly away from her. "Gavin, for a boy; Emma, for a girl."

Damon's movements halted, his heart clenching in his chest. "Those are beautiful names." An image flashed in his mind, of Elena, belly swollen, face aglow, with her hands wrapped around her torso lovingly. A glint shone from her left hand, and from behind her, a faceless man stepped up, circling his arms around her waist.

Damon scowled and pulled Elena tighter to him. She looked up at him, curiosity written across her face, but he shook the thought from his head and instead, snuggled into her hair.

"Wocco! Come heeyuh!" Katie's pealing laughter brightened the sand-colored veterinarian's office, shining light into every corner of the room. Elena brushed her hand across the top of Katie's head, stroking her hair with a smile.

"Katie, sweetheart, we have to be quiet in here," Elena whispered into Katie's ear, rubbing her hand down the little girl's back. Katie plopped down beside Elena's feet and smacked the floor, summoning Rocco. She squished his little ears together and giggled, kissing the tip of his cold, wet nose.

Their name was called a few moments later, and after thirty minutes of the routine doggie check-up, Elena and Katie met Caroline in the waiting room, Rocco trotting alongside them happily.

The drive to drop Rocco off at home almost shorter than the drive to the toy store, with Katie singing along to the radio happily. Elena held Katie's hand as they entered the store, deeming is safe for her to walk on her own, as there were only two paparazzi men trailing their group.

Katie tried to propel herself forward in excitement, but Elena tugged her back gently. "Katie, we can't separate, honey, okay?" she said, bending down to tweak the child's nose.

"Okay, 'Wena." Katie smiled up at her and nodded. The three girls walked up and down the aisles, Katie's little fingers peeking out to grasp the stuffed animals and feel their softness.

"So…" Caroline trailed off nervously as she watched Elena's brow quirk. "You told Damon about how we met?"

"How do you know that?" Elena asked inquisitively. Her initial suspicions of Damon bubbled up, and she felt a quick surge of anger before she quelled it, reminding herself of her trust in him.

"I had to run by the set this morning and drop off some designs for the costumer. Damon saw me and stopped me by one of the studios to hug me. He thanked me for sticking around for you 'after everything,'" she air-quoted. "I assume that means you told him?"

Elena nodded. "April called Damon my sugar daddy, and then started spewing her shit. I got home and I was a mess. I kind of had to tell him; I mean we've been together for a few months now." Her shrug was nonchalant as she watched Katie crouch down and gently pick up a tattered stuffed animal. She clutched the beagle toy to her chest and grinned up at Elena.

"'Wena, can I have it?"

The woman sat beside Katie and gestured for the toy. "You want this one?" she asked, surprised. One of the dog's eyes had fallen off, its nose wasn't centered, and the faux fur was clumped together by what looked like manufacturer's glue.

Katie nodded furiously. "Everyone needs wuv, no matta how silly they wook. And besides, I think he's cute."

Elena looked down at Katie warmly, amazed at how wise this small child was. "Sure, baby, you can have him. Do you want anything else?"

Katie reached for the toy and hugged it. "No, it's okay. We can go home now." She stretched up and grabbed Elena's hand. "Thank you, 'Wena."

Elena squeezed the tiny hand tucked into hers, and led her away, smiling sweetly back at Caroline as she trailed them.

"Really, Care, thank you so much for driving us home. I know it was a bitch with the paparazzi and everything." Elena leaned against the doorframe of her apartment, glancing back quickly to make sure Katie was playing on the floor in the living room.

"I never knew they were so vicious. It's like they completely lack morals," Caroline said disgustedly.

"Honestly, the only reason I tolerate it is because I love Damon and Katie. If I didn't, I'd tell them off faster than you could say PR nightmare; but I don't, because that would affect Damon's career."

Caroline's ears perked up, and a mischievous glint sprang to her eyes. "You love him?"

Elena's stomach muscles clenched in the realization that she'd let something huge slip. "Uh, yeah, yeah, I guess I do." She smiled meekly. "Anyway, I have to go set Katie up for a nap. Thank you again for today. I'll call you later this week, and we'll set up a lunch." She kissed Caroline's cheek, and waved as her friend turned down the hall to leave.

"Okay, Katie Bug, are you ready for a nap?" Elena asked, approaching Katie and reaching out her hands to tickle the little girl.

Amidst her giggles, Katie acquiesced and allowed Elena to carry her to the guest room. After tucking in Katie's small body and kissing her forehead, Elena reentered the living room and flicked on the TV.

A knock on the door broke her out of her television-induced trance, and she hopped up to answer it.

"Hey, baby," she grinned, reaching out for Damon's sides and pecking him on the lips. She dragged him into the apartment by his shirt, grinning against his lips. "How was your day?"

He sighed, and Elena felt his muscles relax under her touch. "It was stressful. Up until this point, I hadn't met my other co-star. So I go in this morning for a quick table read before shooting, and find out that Rebekah Mikaelson is my love interest in the film. Wonder who got her _that_ role," he spat, rolling his eyes.

"Wait, Mikaelson as in Esther? Rebekah is Bitch-On-Wheels From Hell's daughter?" Damon nodded, and Elena huffed. "Jesus, and I'm guessing that the daughter is just as psycho as her nine-month incubator?"

Damon rubbed his hand down Elena's hip and sighed, tilting his forehead to meet hers. "Yeah, she is, but that's not what I want to talk about right now. I want to talk about you meeting my parents."

* * *

**A/N: Don't forget to tell me your thoughts, and what you'd like to happen when Lena meets the Salvatores, all in your reviews! c:**


	14. Chapter 14: Meet the Parents

**A/N: It's time to meet the parents! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. It didn't take as long as I expected, so I hope it's the quality that you all are used to. (And let's preface this chapter with an apology regarding any spelling or grammatical errors-you all know how I work with editing!)**

**Also, a short disclaimer: I obviously don't own the Vampire Diaries or its characters, but I do own this storyline, and any unique characteristics that I threw into the characters' personalities!**

* * *

"Are you sure I don't look like a 1980s streetwalker?" Elena nervously picked at her dress, glancing down at her feet. "I mean, are my heels too high? I don't want your parents thinking that I'm going on the night shift after dinner, if you know what I mean." She grimaced at her reflection.

"'Lena," Damon began, approaching her from behind and looking into the reflection of her eyes lovingly, you look stunning. There's no way my parents will think you're a prostitute."

"I know, but-"

He patted her hips, wrapped his arms around her waist, and propped his chin on her shoulder. "Listen to me: tonight, my parents are hosting a dinner for myself, my daughter, and the woman I love. They explicitly asked to meet you, because they've heard so much about you, and because my mother wants to meet 'Katie's favorite person.' They _want_ to meet you."

Elena's lip slipped between her teeth, but her forearms rested themselves against Damon's. "I know, I'm just…nervous, I guess. I didn't really get a chance to be nervous about meeting your brother because of the premiere, or meeting Katie, because of her hospital visit. So now I think that all the nerves that I was supposed to feel then, are exploding inside me now."

"Do you want to relieve some of those nerves?" Damon wiggled his eyebrows and smirked, leaning his lips in to her neck to brush them softly against her skin.

Her head flew back in laughter as she smacked the top of his hand. "Damon, stop it, we need to get Katie ready. We have to leave in like twenty minutes." He continued to nibble on her skin, laving the tip of his tongue against the column of her neck.

"Damon, stop," she giggled, trying to pull away. He nuzzled his nose further into her neck and blew onto the skin playfully, tickling her. She patted his waist and wriggled out of his embrace.

"Fine, but this isn't over, missy," Damon playfully scowled, as Elena traipsed out of the room, smiling back at him mischievously.

She walked to Katie's room, running her palm along the mahogany of the Salvatore mansion hallway. "Katie Bug, did you pick out your dress yet?" Earlier in the day, she'd placed three dresses on Katie's bed and had asked her to choose one of them for dinner that night.

"Yeah! I wike da puple one." Katie pointed to the dress on the left, hopping up and down.

"Okay, baby, let's get you changed."

After ten minutes of tugging the dress over Katie's head, and slipping on her lavender sandals, Elena picked the child up and cocked her on her hip. "Are you ready to go visit Grandma and Grandpa?" Katie nodded eagerly and grinned. "Let's go find Daddy."

The trio met downstairs in the foyer, and as Elena was getting her clutch together, her phone rang out. She looked at Damon apologetically and held up her finger, earning a nod and smile from him.

She smiled as she looked at the caller I.D. "Hey, Jer."

"Hey, sis. Jenna wants you to visit over Thanksgiving. You in?"

"Gimme one sec, Jer."

Elena turned to Damon. "Would you want to come with me to Jenna's for Thanksgiving?" She felt a little awkward asking Damon to come to Virginia for the holiday, but she did really want Katie and him to meet her family.

"If you want us there, babe, we're there." He smiled at her reassuringly.

She turned back to her phone with a little grin. "Yeah, we'll be there."

"Ooooh, do we get to meet your boooooyfriend?" _I swear, he still acts like he's twelve sometimes_.

"Yes, you get to meet Damon and Katie," she chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Jer, we're running a little late to his parents' house, so I've got to go, but I'll call Jenna and work out the details."

"Shit's real if you're meeting the parents, El." Jeremy's tone was serious, making Elena's posture straighten.

"Yeah, Jer, it's pretty real." Elena mused, smiling to herself.

* * *

Elena was facing possibly the most magnificent home she'd ever seen. Aged brick, veiled in some areas by a thick coating of ivy, covered the two-story manor. The house itself seemed to wrap around the entire span of the upper half of the driveway, and even extended a little bit beyond that. Wooden detailing that reminded Elena of Austen-era English cottages lined the face and windows of the home. The whole scene was very Cinderella-esque, and it took Elena's breath away.

Katie bounced out of the car and grabbed her hand, oblivious to the ball of nerves that had taken up residence in Elena's belly. Damon rounded the front of the car and took her other hand, squeezing it for good measure to try to calm her.

They approached the door, climbing the three marble steps that led to the intricately carved mahogany door. She sucked in a breath and let it out in a powerful _whoosh_. Damon, who glanced at her quickly with a smile, knocked twice rapidly and turned the knob.

"Ma, Dad, we're here." He peeked his head through the doorway before opening it wider and stepping in, pulling Elena and Katie through. Damon placed his hand on the small of Elena's back, running his thumb is gentle circles. "Breathe, babe. They're gonna love you," he whispered.

A woman, curvy, yet still slender, rounded the corner with eyes so warm that they rivaled Elena's mother's eyes. Her hips, round and healthy, swayed with a sure confidence, bringing her slowly toward her son and his guests. Traces of flour flecked throughout her onyx hair, and suddenly, Elena could see every little part of Damon reflected at her in his mother's face. Her sapphire eyes, crystalline and clear, shined against the light, and the small crow's feet at the corners of her eyes reminded Elena of Damon's caring gaze.

"_Tesoro!_" Her voice, earthy with a slight grit, radiated around Elena and warmed her from the inside. Mrs. Salvatore's arms flew up and wrapped themselves around Damon's shoulders emphatically. She leaned back and kissed both of his cheeks sloppily, as only a mother could, and then looked over at Elena affectionately. "And this must be Miss Elena." She slipped her hand in Elena's and cupped it between her two aged hands.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Salvatore," Elena smiled.

Damon's mother waved her hand dismissively. "Genevra, Genie for short." She pressed her lips to both of Elena's cheeks and pulled away, grinning admiringly. "And where is _mia bambina_?"

While Genie's attention was shifted to Katie, Elena took the opportunity to glance at Damon. He stretched his hand out to her and took her palm in his. "I told you it would be okay," he whispered.

"Yeah, well, I've only met one half of the Salvatore parents." Her uttered words barely escaped her lips before a man, brawny and astute, descended the stairs directly in front of them.

"Son, how the hell are you?" His smile widened as he approached his son.

"Dad, little ears…" Damon trailed out, cutting his eyes toward Katie, who was giggling on the floor with Genie.

Mr. Salvatore covered his mouth, widening his eyes in apology. "Oops, sorry. Sometimes I forget how young she is, what with that brain of hers." He embraced his son, something that surprised Elena; she hadn't seen many fathers outright hug their sons.

"Elena, dear." Mr. Salvatore leaned toward Elena and brought her in for a hug. "I heard you try calling my wife 'Mrs. Salvatore.' There's none of that formal crap around here. I'm Giuseppe. It's a pleasure to meet you, after all the great things I've heard about you from my son and granddaughter."

Elena's cheeks warmed slightly. She had to remind herself that although Giuseppe Salvatore was a world-renowned film producer, he was first and foremost a father, and grandfather. "Thank you for inviting me over. Your home is beautiful."

Giuseppe nodded proudly, looking around. "Genie and I gave Damon our home when Katie came around, so we moved into one of the other estates close by. This is actually my mother's family home."

"Oh, I thought Damon's was…"

Genie's head popped up. "That's courtesy of my family. My great grandfather built it when he first moved here." She resumed her game with Katie, smiling as the child giggled.

"Well, my wife has dinner finishing up in the oven right now, so we'll be eating soon." Giuseppe smiled and picked up Elena's hand, squeezing it gently.

* * *

Damon settled Katie in her seat, before pulling out a chair beside his for Elena. "Ma, this smells amazing."

Genie placed her hand over her heart and smiled. "Why, thank you. It's lemon rosemary chicken. The carrots roasted in the juices of the chicken."

"I made the salad!" Giuseppe chimed in, grinning boyishly.

Genie leaned forward conspiratorially. "'Seppe always likes to pretend that he's a master chef." She winked at Elena, poked her fork into her slice of chicken, and began cutting it. She glanced up, realizing she was the only one digging in. "What are you all waiting for? I didn't slave in the kitchen all day to make an ornamental meal."

The family reached forward and began serving themselves. Katie was seated beside Elena, and looked just about as excited as any kind on Christmas. Elena sliced some chicken and placed it on Katie's plate, poking the serving fork into half a dozen carrots to transfer to Katie's plate. Lifting her own fork and knife, she cut up the child's food, talking with her quietly.

Unbeknownst to Elena, the three other adults at the table sat back and watched her interact with Katie. Damon's gaze was loving, warm on his daughter and girlfriend; his smile was gentle, eyes crinkling at the edges happily. From their seats, Genie and Giuseppe glanced at each other slyly before turning their attention back to the display before them. For Genie, this—seeing Damon with a woman he loved, seeing Katie with a woman who loved her—was all she wanted for her son. She grasped Giuseppe's hand atop the table, smiling softly as he looked over at her with tenderness.

Elena smoothed her hand down Katie's back as she handed the little girl a miniature fork. Damon, from his place to Elena's right, slid his hand under the table and across Elena's thigh, and squeezed. She looked over at him and smiled wistfully, touching her forehead to his shoulder briefly before turning her attention back to Katie.

When the final fork clattered onto the plate, Genie stood, smiling as she began collecting the plates. Elena rose to her feet and moved to clear the table.

"Elena, dear, sit down. I can do this," Genie insisted.

"No, no, that's just silly," Elena dismissed with a smile, carrying on with what she was doing. Once the dishes were cleared, she followed Genie into the kitchen, where the two women stood over the sink.

"I'll wash, and you dry. Sound good?" Genie asked, handing the young woman a dishtowel. Elena nodded, and soon, a workflow was established. The sounds of rushing water trickling from plate to glass to silverware in the sink, filled the kitchen, and the aroma of the tropical-scented dish soap floated around the women.

"So you and my son have been seeing each other for how long now?" Genie inserted smoothly.

"Five months." Elena smiled down at the dish she was drying.

"And it's going…well?"

Elena looked up and locked eyes with Damon's mother. "He's the best thing that's happened to me in a really, _really_ long time." Her voice was steady, and her eyes were intense.

Genie nodded and looked toward the glass she was scrubbing. "And Katie? You must have been surprised to find that my son had a daughter. She's not often in the tabloids."

"I'll admit that I didn't expect to find out that the man I was on a date with—our first date, mind you—had a three-year old kid. But honestly? It ranks up there in the top ten best surprises I've ever gotten. She's an amazing little girl, and I'm so glad that she was part of the package."

Genie was quiet for a moment, the sponge stilled on the spoon in her hand. She breathed in deeply, before turning to face Elena. "Just don't hurt him. He's already been through hell, and he's not even reached his thirtieth birthday."

Exhaling, Elena placed the dried dish on the granite countertop, tossing the towel on top of it. "Genie, I hope you don't take this as disrespect, because I wasn't raised to disrespect anyone, especially in their own home, but your son is a wonderful, kind, and intelligent man. And your granddaughter? She's absolutely beautiful, and has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen in anyone, much less a child her age.

I love them more than…more than I love myself. I'm not here to sabotage your son; I'm not here to trick Katie; I'm not here to hurt either of them in any way. Please trust in that."

The older woman's stance softened, and her face brightened. She wrapped her arm around Elena's shoulders and tugged her into her side. "Okay, _Tesoro_. I think, based on what 'Seppe and I witnessed over dinner, that Damon is in love with you. And I think it's safe to say that you've made your way into my granddaughter's heart. We saw the love that the three of you share; it's nothing short of what I've been praying for, for my family."

Elena nodded modestly, her lips quirking up in the corners softly. Genie patted her shoulders and turned back to the sink, allowing Elena to return to her dish-drying duties.

* * *

"Thank you again for dinner tonight. It was absolutely delicious," Elena praised. Her arms wrapped themselves around first Genie, then Giuseppe, hugging warmly and tightly. When she pulled away, she watched fondly as Katie placed her toys in a bin under the staircase, closing the small door on the side of the stairwell behind her.

She turned back and rejoined the conversation with the other adults. Little feet pattered up to Elena, and Katie's bright face shined up at her. Tiny arms stretched up, begging for Elena. The woman bent down and lifted the child up, hooking her around her hips. Katie nestled her face in the crook of Elena's neck and reached up with her left hand to grab onto the woman's shoulder.

Elena watched as Damon parted with his parents, hugging his father securely, and leaning in to kiss his mother on the cheek.

As he pulled away from her, she tugged him just an inch forward. "_Mantenere la sua, le __è un buon compromesso_," she whispered, patting his cheek maternally.

Damon's signature smirk widened into a full grin, and he squeezed his mother's arm. "Intendo," he murmured.

It was clear to Elena that Damon was fluent in Italian, a fact she filed away for later use. Whatever his mother had said must have resonated with him, because when he returned to his place beside her, he took her right hand in his left, brought it to his lips, and laid the gentlest of kisses on it. As their hands lowered, they remained clasped, his thumb running across the backs of her fingers idly.

"What did your mom say?" she asked under her breath, as they walked back to Damon's car. He smirked and shook his head, refusing to divulge that privileged information.

"And why did you not tell me you speak Italian? That particular _skill_ of yours could have gotten a lot more use in a certain area of the house," she said suggestively, "if I'd have known." Her eyebrow lifted triumphantly as she observed the dilation of his pupils, and the darkening of his irises. "Oh well, I guess if you won't tell me what she said…"

Her lopsided smile earned her a light smack on the ass. "This will be discussed later, missy." She giggled at Damon's faux-dominant tone.

"In Italian, hopefully," she muttered sassily. Damon's chuckle was a low rumble in his chest, and she smiled. _Hook, line, and sinker._

* * *

**A/N: I'll let you all translate the Italian c;**

**As always, let me know what you think in your reviews! c:**


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